


A Perfect Kiss

by LucyLegacies



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:14:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 51,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29029251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyLegacies/pseuds/LucyLegacies
Summary: Meet Hope Mikaelson…She's is in a bind. Her family wants her to marry and give continuity to the bloodline. Hope doesn't want to get married and she would rather avoid Balls and social events that could land her a marriage. Until she finds an old diary, which may or may not contain a clue to the long lost Crown Jewels. The problem is—it’s written in Italian, of which Hope does not speak a word.Meet Lizzie Saltzman…All the society agreed: there was no one quite like Lizzie Saltzman. She’s otherworldly smart, devilishly outspoken and according to Hope's friends, probably best in small doses. But there’s something about her—something charming and curious—that grabs Hope and won’t quite let go…To Lizzie, Hope's every word seems a dare, and she offers to translate the diary, even though her Italian is slightly less than perfect. But as they delve into the mysterious text, they discover that the answers they seek lie not in the diary, but in each other… and that there is nothing as simple—or as complicated—as a single, perfect kiss.I AM LAUGHING LIKE A CRAZY WOMAN AT HOW BAD THIS SUMMARY IS
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman
Comments: 78
Kudos: 99





	1. The Diary

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my dears. Here I am again.  
> I'd like to start by saying something terrible has happened to me. A malevolent virus has attacked my computer and I have lost not only work documents but also fanfics. I am inconsolable as you may imagine. To regain some kind of feeling of control, I decided to post this one here. It's one of the ones that had not been corrupted by the aforementioned malevolent virus. 
> 
> It's a historical romance piece. God, it's even embarrassing! I love historical romance and I have read every single book by Julia Quinn and Sarah MacLean and Loretta Chase and others. It's my guilty pleasure if i must say so.  
> Following the release of Bridgerton on Netflix, which I have read more than I care to say, I started to think HIZZIE which is what I usually do every now and then when I breath. 
> 
> So have this one. It's HEAVILY based in the penultimate book in the Bridgerton series called It's In His Kiss. Of course the book is heterossexual and quite sexist so I changed that and made it better. (NOT THAT I THINK MYSELF CAPABLE OF DOING SHIT BETTER THAN THE ACTUAL AUTHOR) It's just that I made it hizzie and that constituites as better in my vocabulary.  
> Although I changed some of the plot and names and other things, if you read the actual book, you will see that I did a lot of copy and paste so this is me giving rights to that lovely book that had me pissing myself laughing. 
> 
> Also, I should probably advise you to put down your femisnism to a sedatad nap when you pick up any of these books like I usually do. THEY ARE VERY SEXIST even if the characters are foward as some of them are.
> 
> Anyway, I don't actually think someone have read this far and if they did they probably already gave up reading my story because they realized how long it is. ANYWAY, I think I'll have like three kudos so I'll be thanking those three kudos and one comment ahead. THANK YOU FOR YOUR KINDNESS.
> 
> I have to admit, though, that I mostly write these things for my own enjoyment. You should see me re-reading these fics and laughing like a fool patting myself on the shoulder and saying "Wow, Luci, you have such a sharp mind." or "You're so cunning and charming." or even "*sighs marveled* I wish I could write like you." YEAH that's me and I am not sorry.

“Dad?” Hope asked when her dad finally entered his office. Hope’s mom followed him inside and they both sat on the remaining chairs. Hope fought the urge to groan. For them to have called upon an official meeting, they had to have something major to say. Hope waited until they finished their _eye-talk_. It was something Hope had noticed that some married people had developed. The ability to have entire conversations using only the eyes. Her parents were doing it right now.

“We need to talk to you, love.” Her father started; probably after losing the eye-battle to Hope’s mom. Klaus Mikaelson was quite often terrifying to people but Hayley managed to always out-terrify him when she wanted.

“About?” Hope asked. She was quite comfortably in her house doing art and avoiding social events. They probably wanted her to attend some of them. Hope supposed that they wouldn’t be asking much anyway. Hope would usually be left in peace for most of the year. The only thing her family asked was for her to attend a few special events each year.

“You need to get married.” Her father said making Hope choke on air.

“What?” That wasn’t at all what she had been expecting them to say.

“You’re almost twenty-five, honey. You’re not getting any younger.” Her mother said and Hope gasped offended.

“Mom, dad, what about all that talk about finding love and waiting as long as needed?” Hope asked because she was really surprised. Most people in their society didn’t really marry for love, rather doing it for social advance or money, but the Mikaelsons and a few other families prized love and Hope’s parents always told her that they wished her to have a happy loving marriage much like their own.

“You’re not even looking for it, Hope. Love doesn’t fall from the sky, you know.” Hope’s mom said and when Hope looked at her dad; always her biggest ally; he only shrugged. _The traitor_.

“I’m not getting married.” Hope said crossing her arms as a petulant child.

“We’re not obligating you to get married, love.” Her father said earning a look from her mother.

“But we’re forcing you into at least looking for someone.” Her mother added. “You don’t attend Balls, you don’t mingle with people your age and we had to save you from scandal more than one time.”

“That isn’t true. It’s not like I’m ravaging every single person in town.” Hope frowned.

“No, we know you’re not but society doesn’t know that and every time you decide to take art lessons from an artist or paint a nude,” her mother gave her a pointed look “of an actress or actor, people automatically think you’re having an affair.”

“And besides, wouldn’t it be delightful to find someone to share your passions?” Her father asked but Hope only rolled her eyes.

“No, thank you.” Hope said already standing up to leave this annoying conversation. What did her parents expect her to do? Go to the next event and find herself the love of her life? That easy? She snorted but when she reached the door, aunt Rebekah was there smiling at her. “I see you’ve brought the cavalry.” Hope said respectful. Her family knew how to oppress someone into doing something.

“I love that you think of me as the cavalry.” Aunt Rebekah smirked, the stupid and lethal fan she always carried, moving swiftly in her hand. Then she sighed. “We really just want the best for you.” She said going right for the throat with emotional guilt.

“I also want the best for myself.” Hope said walking to the window, looking outside and ignoring the looks her family were giving each other.

“There’s this little event next week.” Rebekah started. “It’s just the beginning of the Social Season so most of the people will still be coming to town so it will be quite uncrowded. I would like for you to come.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re talking about. The Children’s Musicale.” Hope said shuddering. She thought that she saw her father going green with that prospect. “That is hell and you know it. There’s no way I can endure listening to those poor kids playing as if they were the next Mozart when in reality they’re developing the next new weapon to be used in war: noise bomb.”

“Don’t be mean, Hope. It doesn’t fit you.” Her mother said and Hope looked at the floor embarrassed. She didn’t want to be mean but the kids were really bad. She heard her aunt sighing again and after holding her ground for a few more minutes, she conceded.

“Okay, I’ll go.” Hope said watching her mom smiling proud, Rebekah smugly and her dad relieved. “But don’t go thinking that I’ll court anyone. I won’t even talk to people.” Hope said starting to leave the office.

“I think you’ll change your mind.” Rebekah smirked and if Hope wasn’t so eager to leave before they could trap her again, she would’ve seen the scheming look in her aunt’s face.

* * *

**_A week have passed, and we meet one of our heroines, who, it must be said, has never been known as a shy and retiring flower. The scene is the annual Children’s Musicale, about ten minutes before Mr. Mozart begins to rotate in his grave._ **

****

"Why do we do this to ourselves?" Lizzie Saltzman wondered aloud.

"Because we are good, kind people." her sister replied, sitting in— God help them— a front-row seat.

"One would think," Lizzie persisted, regarding the empty chair next to Josie, "that we would have learned our lesson last year. Or perhaps the year before that. Or maybe even—"

"Lizzie?" Josie said. Lizzie swung her gaze to Josie, lifting one brow in question. "Sit." And Lizzie sighed tiredly. But she sat. Then let out another sigh, this one louder than the last.

"I'm not entirely certain that I'm either good or kind." She said.

"I'm not certain, either," Josie said, "but I have decided to have faith in you nevertheless."

"Rather sporting of you," Lizzie replied sarcastically.

"I thought so." Josie smiled and Lizzie glanced at her sideways.

"Of course you did not have any choice in the matter of bringing me."

Josie turned in her seat, her eyes narrowing. "Meaning?"

"Penelope refused to accompany you, didn't she?" Lizzie asked with a sly look. Penelope was Josie’s wife, they had married when Josie was just eighteen. Josie clamped her mouth into a firm line. "I do love it when I’m right," Lizzie said triumphantly. "Which is fortunate, since I so often am." She said smugly.

Josie just looked at her. "You do know that you are insufferable."

"Of course." Lizzie leaned toward Jo with a devilish smile. "But you love me, anyway."

Josie looked at her and laughed. "I don't know how you do it, Lizzie," she said, "but exasperating as you are, you somehow always manage to be charming."

"It's my greatest gift," Lizzie said feigning modesty, a hand to her heart.

"Well, you do receive extra points for coming with me tonight," Josie said, patting her on the hand.

"Of course," Lizzie replied. "For all my insufferable ways, I am in truth the soul of kindness and amiability." And she'd have to be, she thought, as she watched the scene unfolding on the small, makeshift stage. Another year, another Musicale. Another opportunity to learn just how many ways one could ruin a perfectly good piece of music. Every year Lizzie swore she wouldn't attend, then every year she somehow found herself at the event, smiling encouragingly at the four kids on the stage.

"At least last year I got to sit in the back," Lizzie murmured.

"Yes, you did," Josie replied, turning on her with suspicious eyes. "How did you manage that? Mom, Penelope, and I were all up front."

Lizzie shrugged. "A well-timed visit to the ladies' retiring room. In fact— "

"Don't you dare try that tonight," Josie warned. "If you leave me up here by myself…"

"Don't worry," Lizzie said with a sigh. "I am here to stay. But," she added, pointing her finger in what her mother would surely have called a most unpleasant manner, "I want my devotion to you to be duly noted."

"Why is it," Josie asked, "that I am left with the feeling that you are keeping score of something, and when I least expect it, you will jump out in front of me, demanding a favor?"

Lizzie looked at her and blinked. "Why would I need to jump?"

"Ah, look," Josie said, after staring at her sister as if she were a lunatic, "here comes Lady Rebekah."

"Lady Josie," Lady Rebekah said, or rather barked, as she usually did. "Miss Saltzman."

"Good evening, Lady Rebekah," Josie said to the countess. "We saved you a seat right in front."

Lady Rebekah narrowed her eyes and poked Josie lightly in the arm with her fan. "Always thinking of others, aren't you?" She said sarcastically.

"Of course," Josie said. "I wouldn't dream of— "

"Yeah, yeah" Lady Rebekah said. It was, Lizzie reflected, the countess's favorite syllable.

That and _hmmmph_.

"Move over, Lizzie," Lady R ordered. "I'll sit between you."

Lizzie obediently moved one chair to the left. "We were just pondering our reasons for attending," she said as Lady Rebekah settled into her seat. "I, for one, have come up blank."

"I can't speak for you," Lady R said to Lizzie, "but she"—at this she jerked her head toward Jo— "is here for the same reason I am."

"For the music?" Lizzie replied, perhaps a little too politely. Enough to make sure her irony wouldn’t be lost.

Lady Rebekah turned back to Lizzie, her face creasing into what might have been a smile. "I've always liked you, Lizzie Saltzman."

"I've always liked you, too, Lady Rebekah" Lizzie replied.

"I expect it is because you come and read with me from time to time," Lady R said. "And if I might add," She said with a sniff, "you were most unkind last week, leaving off with poor Priscilla hanging from a cliff."

"What are you reading?" Josie asked frowning.

"Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron," Lizzie replied. "And she wasn't hanging.” She added to Lady R. “At least not yet."

"Did you read ahead?" Lady R demanded.

"No," Lizzie said with a roll of her eyes. "But it's not difficult to forecast. Miss Butterworth has already hung from a building and a tree. More than once."

"And she's still living?" Josie asked, her frown deepening.

"I said hung, not hanged," Lizzie muttered. "Unfortunately."

"Regardless," Lady Rebekah cut in, "it was most unkind of you to leave me hanging."

"It's where the author ended the chapter," Lizzie said unapologetically, "and besides, isn't patience a virtue?"

"Absolutely not," Lady Rebekah said emphatically, "and if you think so, you're less of a woman than I thought."

No one understood why Lizzie visited Lady Rebekah every Tuesday and read with her, but she enjoyed her afternoons with the countess. Some might say that Lizzie did that to elevate her status, after all Rebekah and the Mikaelsons were the family with more titles and they were said to be richer than the royals. In truth, Lady Rebekah was sassy and honest to a fault, and Lizzie adored her.

"The two of you together are a menace," Josie remarked.

"My aim in life," Lady Rebekah announced, "is to be a menace to as great a number of people as possible, so I shall take that as the highest of compliments, Lady Josie."

Lizzie grinned. When she was older, she wanted to be exactly like Lady Rebekah. Truth be told, she liked the countess better than most of the people she knew her own age. After three seasons on the marriage market, Lizzie was growing just a little bit weary of the same people day after day. What had once been exhilarating— the balls, the parties, the suitors— well, it was still enjoyable—that much she had to concede. Lizzie certainly wasn't one of those girls who complained about all of the wealth and privilege she was forced to endure. But it wasn't the same. She no longer held her breath each time she entered a ballroom. And a dance was now simply a dance, no longer the magical swirl of movement it had been in years gone past. The excitement, she realized, was gone. Unfortunately, every time she mentioned this to her mother, the reply was simply to find herself a spouse. That, Lady Caroline took great pains to point out, would change everything.

Indeed. Lizzie’s mother had long since given up any pretense of subtlety when it came to the unmarried state of her final daughter. It had, Lizzie thought grimly, turned into a personal crusade.

Forget Joan of Arc. Her mother was Caroline of Mystic Falls, and neither plague nor pestilence would stop her in her quest to see her children happily married. Josie had married at the acceptable age of eighteen but Lizzie at twenty-two? The only thing staving off her mother's complete collapse was the fact she had already married off Josie to Penelope, a viscountess very influential.

No one could say that Lizzie was hopelessly on the shelf, but even she had to admit that she was edging toward that position. She had received a few proposals since her debut four years earlier, but not as many as one would think, given her looks— not the prettiest girl in town but certainly better than most — and her fortune— again, not the largest dowry on the market, but certainly enough to make a fortune hunter look twice. And her connections were, of course, nothing short of impeccable. Her father had been a knight before he died when Josie and Lizzie were just babies. Her step-father was also the younger brother to an Earl, Salvatore, and while theirs might not have been the greatest title in the land, the family was immensely popular and prominent. And if that wasn’t enough, her sister Jo was the wife of a Viscountess that was close friends to the royal family. If someone wanted to align themselves with the most powerful families, they could do a lot worse than Lizzie Saltzman.

But if one took the time to reflect upon the timing of the proposals she had received, which Lizzie didn't care to admit that she had, it was starting to look damning indeed.

_Three proposals her first season._

_Two her second._

_One last year._

And none thus far this time around.

It could only be argued that she was growing less popular.

Unless, of course, someone was foolish enough to actually make the argument, in which case Lizzie would have to take the other side, despite of facts and logic. And she'd probably win the point, too. It was a rare man— or woman— who could outwit, outspeak, or outdebate Lizzie Saltzman. This might, she'd thought in a rare moment of self-reflection, have something to do with why her rate of proposals was declining at such an alarming pace.

No matter, she thought, it wasn't as if she should have accepted any of her six proposals. Three had been fortune hunters, two had been fools, and one had been quite terminally boring. Better to remain unmarried than to trap herself to someone who'd bore her to tears. Even her mother, inveterate matchmaker that she was, couldn't argue that point. And as for her current proposal-free season— well, if people couldn't appreciate the inherent value of having Lizzie as their partner, that was their problem, not hers.

Lady Rebekah hit Lizzie’s arm softly with the infamous fan. "I wonder,” she said, "have either of you caught sight of my niece?"

"Which niece?" Lizzie asked politely.

"Which niece," Lady R echoed impatiently. " The only one in need to marry, of course."

Lizzie didn't even bother to hide her shock at Lady Rebekah’s honest words. "Lady Mikaelson is coming tonight?"

"I know, I know," Lady R cackled. "I can hardly believe it myself. I keep waiting for a beam of heavenly light to burst through the ceiling."

Josie’s nose crinkled. "I think that might be blasphemous, but I'm not sure."

"It's not," Lizzie said, without even looking at her. "And why is she coming?"

Lady Rebekah smiled slowly then. Like a snake. "Why are you so interested?"

"I'm always interested in gossip," Lizzie said frankly. "About anyone. You should know that already."

"Very well," Lady R said, somewhat grumpily after having been stopped from teasing Lizzie. "She's coming because I blackmailed her." Lizzie and Josie regarded her with identically arched brows. "Well," Lady Rebekah conceded, "if not blackmail, then a heavy dose of guilt."

"Of course," Josie murmured.

"That makes much more sense." Lizzie said admiringly. One had to appreciate Lady Rebekah’s sense of the dramatic, especially when it resulted in such impressive manipulation of the people around her. It was a talent Lizzie cultivated as well.

"I don't think I have ever seen her at a Musicale before." Josie remarked.

"Hmmmph," Lady Rebekah grunted. "I don’t think I have seen it either.”

One did have to consider the woman in question. Lady Rebekah’s niece was none other than the notorious Hope Mikaelson. Although it probably wasn't entirely her fault that she had gained such a wicked reputation, Lizzie reflected. There were plenty of other Heirs who behaved with equal lack of propriety, and more than a few who were as gorgeous as sin but Hope Mikaelson was the only one who managed to combine the two to such success. That she was the highest unmarried title was just something else to stir more gossip.

But her reputation was abominable. She was certainly of marriageable age, but she’d never, not even once, called upon a proper someone with that intent. Lizzie was quite sure of that; if she'd ever even hinted at courting someone, the rumor mills would have run out of control. And besides, Lizzie would have heard it from Lady Rebekah, who loved gossip even more than Lizzie did.

Last year Lizzie had seen a boy swoon —or at least pretend to— when Hope Mikaelson had deigned to attend one Ball. It had been appalling. Lizzie had tried to tell the foolish boy, Landon was his name, that she was only there because her family had forced her into it, and not to look for marriage. Lizzie had been the first to locate some alcohol and shove it under Landon’s nose. Really, some behavior just couldn't be tolerated. But as she stood there, helping the foolish boy, she had caught sight of _her_ staring at Lizzie in that vaguely mocking way of hers, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she had found Lizzie amusing. Much in the same way Lizzie found small children and large dogs amusing.

Needless to say, she hadn't felt particularly complimented by Mikaelson’s attention, fleeting as it was.

Lizzie turned to face Lady Rebekah, who was still searching the room for her niece. "I don't think she's here yet," Lizzie said, then added under her breath, "No one's fainted."

"Enh? What was that?"

"I said I don't think she's here yet."

Lady R narrowed her eyes. "I heard that part."

"It's all I said," Lizzie smiled sweetly.

"Liar." Then Lady Rebekah turned to Josie to talk, completely ignoring Lizzie’s presence which annoyed her a lot. There was nothing more irritating than being left out of a joke and Jo and Lady R were laughing at something. She hated when that happened.

"Hmmmph." Lizzie sat back in her chair and did it again just to annoy her sister and Lady R. "Hmmmph."

"You sound," came an amused voice from over her shoulder, "exactly like my aunt."

Lizzie looked up. There she was, Hope Mikaelson, inevitably at the moment of her greatest awkwardness. And, of course, the only empty seat was next to her.

"Doesn't she, though?" Lady Rebekah asked, looking up at her niece. "She's quickly replacing you as my pride and joy."

"Tell me, Miss Saltzman," Hope Mikaelson asked, one corner of her lips curving into a mocking half smile, "is my aunt remaking you in her image?"

Lizzie had no ready retort, which she found profoundly irritating.

"Move over again, Lizzie," Lady R demanded. "I need to sit next to Hope." Lizzie turned to say something, but Lady Rebekah cut in with, "Someone needs to make sure she behaves." Lizzie let out a noisy exhale and moved over another seat. "There you go, my girl," Lady R said, patting the empty chair with obvious joy. "Sit and enjoy."

“I would find that difficult to do.” Lizzie murmured under her breath.

Hope Mikaelson turned to look at her, probably only because it enabled her to turn away from her aunt. Lizzie smiled at her blankly, pleased with herself for showing no reaction of discomfort that she’d heard Lizzie’s complain.

She'd always reminded Lizzie of a wolf, fierce and predatory, filled with restless energy. Her hair, that she wore loose and slightly curly in that curious state between light brown and ginger, defied the convention of wearing it tied or braided. She was also really short but with an athlete's grace and strength.

And her eyes were blue. _Really blue_. Uncomfortably blue.

 _Uncomfortably blue?_ She gave her head a little shake. That had to be quite the most idiotic thought that had ever entered her head. Her own eyes were blue, and there was certainly nothing uncomfortable about that.

"And what brings you here, Miss Saltzman?" she heard her asking. "I hadn't realized you were such a lover of music."

"If she loved music," Lady R said from behind her, "she'd have already fled to another country."

"She does hate to be left out of a conversation, doesn't she?" Hope murmured, without turning around. "Ow!" She said when her aunt slapped her with her fan. Her fan, Lizzie thought, was her registered mark. Rebekah was always holding it and she used to wield it as weapon frequently.

"Fan?" Lizzie asked sweetly.

"She's a threat to society," Hope muttered.

Lizzie watched with interest as Hope reached behind her, and without even turning her head, wrapped her hand around the fan and wrenched it from her aunt’s grasp. "Here," she said, handing it to Lizzie, "you will look after this, won't you? She won't need it right now." Lizzie’s mouth fell open. Even she had never dared to interfere with Lady Rebekah’s fan.

"I see that I have finally impressed you," Hope said, sitting back in her chair with the expression of one who is quite pleased with herself.

"Yes." Lizzie said before she could stop herself. "I mean, no. I mean, don't be silly. I certainly haven't been _not impressed_ by you."

"How gratifying," she murmured.

"What I meant," she said, grinding her teeth together, "was that I haven't really thought about it one way or the other."

Hope tapped her heart with her hand. "Wounded," she said jokily. "And right through the heart."

Lizzie gritted her teeth. The only thing worse than being made fun of was not being sure if one was being made fun of. She glanced past her to see if Josie was listening— not that she was sure why that mattered one way or another— but Jo was busy placating Lady Rebekah, who was still complaining over the loss of her fan.

Lizzie fidgeted in her seat, feeling uncommonly closed in. She glanced at Hope Mikaelson who was positively radiating heat. Good God, had the woman smothered herself in hot-water bottles before setting out for the evening? Lizzie picked up her program as discreetly as she was able and used it to fan herself.

"Is something amiss, Miss Saltzman?" Hope inquired, tilting her head as she regarded her with curious amusement.

"Of course not," she answered. "It's merely a little warm in here, don't you think?"

She eyed her for one second longer than she would have liked, then turned to her aunt. "Are you overheated, Aunt?" she asked solicitously.

"Not at all," came the brisk reply.

She then turned back to Lizzie with a tiny shrug. "It must be you," she murmured.

"It must," she forced out, facing determinedly forward.

Maybe there still was time to escape to the ladies' retiring room. Josie would want to have her head in a silver plate, but did it really count as abandonment when there were two people seated between them? She was ready to push herself up when the heard a clap.

_Clap clap clap._

Lizzie nearly groaned. It was one of the Ladies signaling that the concert was about to begin. She'd lost her moment of opportunity. There was no way she could depart politely now. But at least she could take some solace in the fact that she wasn't the only miserable soul. Just as the kids were about to start the concert, she heard Hope Mikaelson let out a very quiet groan, followed by a heartfelt, "God help us all."

* * *

**_Thirty minutes later, and somewhere not too far away, a small dog is howling in agony. Unfortunately, no one can hear him over the sounds of agonizing music instruments._ **

There were very few people in the world for whom Hope would sit politely and listen to really bad music, and her aunt Rebekah happened to be one of them.

"Never again," she whispered in her ear, as something that might have been Mozart assaulted her ears.

"You're not sitting politely," she whispered back.

"We could have sat in the back," she grumbled.

"And missed all the fun?"

How anyone could term a Children’s Musicale fun was beyond her, but her aunt had what could only be called a morbid love for the annual show. As usual, four kids from noble families were seated on a small stage, two with violins, one with a cello, and one at a pianoforte, and the noise they were making was so discordant as to be almost impressive.

 _Almost_.

"It's a good thing I love you," she said over her shoulder.

And then— thank God— it was over, and the kids were nodding and making their curtsies, three of them looking quite pleased with themselves, and one— the one on the cello— looking as if she might like to hurl herself through a window. Hope turned when she heard her aunt sigh. She was shaking her head and looking uncharacteristically sympathetic.

These kids were notorious in London, and each yearly performance was somehow, inexplicably, worse than the last. Just when one thought there was no possible way to make a deeper mockery of Mozart, a new set of kids appeared on the scene, and proved that yes, it could be done. But they were nice kids, or so Hope had been told, and her aunt, in one of her rare fits of open kindness, insisted that someone had to sit in the front row and clap, because, as she put it, _"Three of them couldn't tell an elephant from a flute, but there's always one who is ready to melt in misery."_

They all stood to applaud, although Hope suspected her aunt did so only to seize the opportunity to retrieve her fan, which Lizzie Saltzman had handed over with no protest whatsoever.

"Traitor," Hope murmured over her shoulder.

"She was not hitting _me_ with it." Miss Saltzman replied.

Hope cracked a smile, despite herself. She had never met anyone quite like Lizzie Saltzman. She was vaguely amusing, vaguely annoying, but one couldn't quite help but admire her wit.

Lizzie Saltzman, Hope reflected, had an interesting and unique reputation among the marriageable people. She was, in theory at least and for those who cared about such things, considered a rather good catch for matrimony. She had never been involved, even tangentially, in a scandal, and her family and connections were beyond compare. She was quite pretty with her long blond hair and blue eyes that did little to hide her sagacity. And perhaps most importantly, Hope thought with a touch of the cynic, it was whispered that her family had increased her dowry last year after Lizzie had completed her third social season without an acceptable proposal of marriage.

But when Hope had inquired about her— not, of course because she was interested; rather she had wanted to learn more about this girl who seemed to _enjoy_ spending a great deal of time with her aunt— her friends had all shuddered.

"Lizzie Saltzman?" one had echoed. "Surely not to marry? You must be mad."

Another had called her terrifying while other seemed to want to cry.

No one actually seemed to dislike her— there was a certain charm to her that kept her in everyone's good graces— but the consensus was that she was best in small doses. "People don't like people who are more intelligent than they are," one of Hope’s shrewder friends had commented, "and Lizzie Saltzman isn't the sort to feign stupidity in favor of others."

She was, Hope had thought on more than one occasion, a younger version of her aunt. And while Hope loved her aunt deeply, as far as she was concerned, the world needed only one of her.

"Aren't you glad you came?" the aunt in question asked, her voice carrying quite well over the applause. No one ever clapped as loudly as the Children’s Musicale audience. They were always so glad that it was over.

"Never again," Hope said firmly.

"Of course not," her aunt said, with just the right touch of condescension to show that she was lying through her teeth. "I'm leaving with Lady Josie to find a glass of lemonade. You keep Lizzie company."

Hope watched her go, then turned back to Lizzie, who was glancing about the room with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Who are you looking for?" she asked.

"No one in particular. Just examining the scene."

Hope looked at her curiously. "Do you always sound like a detective?"

"Only when it suits me," she said with a shrug. "I like to know what is going on."

"And is anything 'going on'?" Hope asked sarcastically.

"No." Her eyes narrowed again as she watched two people in a heated discussion in the far corner. "But you never know."

Hope fought the urge to shake her head. She was the strangest woman. Hope glanced at the stage. "Are we safe?"

Lizzie finally turned back, her blue eyes meeting Hope's with uncommon directness. "Do you mean is it over?"

"Yes."

Her brow furrowed, and in that moment Hope realized that she had the lightest smattering of freckles on her nose. "I think so," she said.

"Thank God," she said, with great feeling. "Why do they do it?"

"The families of the children, you mean?"

"Yes."

For a moment she remained silent, then she just shook her head, and said, "I don't know. One would think…" Whatever she'd been about to say, she thought the better of it. "Never mind," she said.

"Tell me," Hope urged, rather surprised by how curious she was.

"It was nothing," she said. "Just that one would think that someone would have told them by now that they’re terrible. But actually…" She glanced around the room. "The audience has grown smaller in recent years. Only the kindhearted remain."

"And do you include yourself among those ranks, Miss Saltzman?"

She looked at Hope with those electrifying blue eyes. "I wouldn't have thought to describe myself as such, but yes, I suppose I am. Your aunt, too, although she would deny it to her dying breath."

Hope felt herself laugh as she watched her aunt hit one of Hope’s uncles with her fan. "Yes, she would, wouldn't she?" Hope said thinking of the great amount of times aunt Rebekah helped someone but never let people know of it. Hope loved that about her aunt. The whole world thought her terrifying but she was actually a good-hearted person.

“Lady Mikaelson?"

Hope blinked and turned to Lizzie, whom, she realized, she'd been ignoring in favor of her own thoughts. "So sorry," she murmured, giving her the slow and easy smile that seemed to work so well when she needed to placate someone. "I was thinking." At Lizzie’s dubious expression, Hope added, "I do think from time to time."

She smiled, clearly despite herself, and Hope counted that as a success. The day she couldn't make a pretty woman smile was the day she ought to just give up on life.

"Under normal circumstances," she said, since the occasion seemed to call for polite conversation, "I would ask if you enjoyed the musicale, but somehow that seems cruel."

Lizzie shifted slightly in her seat, which was interesting, since most young noble were trained from a very young age to hold themselves with perfect stillness. Hope found herself liking her the better for her restless energy; she, too, was the sort to find herself drumming her fingers against a tabletop when she didn't realize it.

Hope watched her face, waiting for her to reply, but all she did was look vaguely uncomfortable. Finally, she leaned forward and whispered, "Would you mind terribly if we took a turn about the room?"

Hope waited just long enough to catch her motioning over her shoulder with the tiniest of nods. A Lord was wiggling slightly in his chair, and from time to time, he would cough in Lizzie’s direction.

"Of course," Hope said gallantly, rising to her feet and offering her arm. "I need to save the poor man, after all." she said, once they had moved several paces away.

Lizzie’s eyes snapped to Hope’s face. "I beg your pardon?"

"If I were a betting woman," Hope said, "I'd lay the odds four-to-one in your favor that you would make him cry."

For about half a second she looked confused, and then her face slid into a satisfied smile. "You mean you're not a betting woman?" she asked.

Hope laughed. "I haven't had the smarts to be a betting woman," Hope said quite honestly. She never knew how to study things enough to have a good chance at winning and she wouldn’t just bet for betting. There were, of course, the bets between her family. _Aunt Rebekah will hit seventeen people with her fan the next ball. Uncle Elijah’s new suit costs this amount of money._ But Hope wouldn’t say about those to Miss Saltzman.

"That doesn't seem to stop most people," Lizzie said and Hope laughed.

“True.”

"We are a gambling people, aren't we?" Lizzie asked and Hope nodded.

"And what about you, Miss Saltzman? Do you like to wager?"

"Of course," she said, surprising Hope with her crude honesty. People weren’t supposed to talk about gambling and much less admit to be a wager. "But only when I know I will win."

Hope chuckled. "Strangely enough," she said, guiding Lizzie toward the refreshment table, "I believe you."

There was something very amusing about Lizzie Saltzman, she decided. She was smart— very smart— but she had a certain air about her, as if she was used to always being the most intelligent person in any room. It wasn't unattractive; she was quite charming in her own way. That was why it was so fun to tease her. Hope didn't know why she didn't make a point of doing it more often.

"Tell me, Lady Mikaelson," Lizzie said, "what did your aunt say to you to convince you to attend this evening?"

"You don't believe I came of my own free will?" Hope asked and Lizzie lifted one brow. Hope was impressed. She'd never known anyone that looked that regal doing that.

"Very well," Hope said, "there was a great deal of hand fluttering, then some fan hitting, and then I believe she sighed."

"Just once?" Lizzie asked. 

"I'm made of stronger stuff than that, Miss Saltzman.” Hope snorted. “It took a full half hour to break me." She said proud.

Lizzie nodded impressed. "You are good."

Hope leaned toward her and smiled. "At many things, I’m told often." she murmured.

Lizzie blushed then, which pleased Hope immensely, but then she said, "I've been warned about people like you."

"I certainly hope so." Hope said grinning devilishly which only made Lizzie laugh instead of blush even more like Hope had expected her to.

"I don't think you're nearly as dangerous as you'd like to be thought."

Hope tilted her head to the side. "And why is that?"

She didn't answer right away, just caught her lower lip between her teeth as she pondered her words. "You're far too kind to your family," she finally said softly.

"Some would say my family if too kind to me." Hope said thinking of the many times Hope neglected her duty as Heir to the dukedom and her family saved face by saying that Hope hadn’t been able to attend certain Ball because she was studying or that she hadn’t been able to be at a wedding because she was traveling. In all honesty, Hope just hadn’t wanted to go. She thought all this social pleasantries boring.

"Oh, many people say that," Lizzie said with a shrug making Hope choke on her lemonade.

"You haven't a shy bone in your body, do you?" Hope shook her head. She thought that people like Lizzie were taught since the crib what they should and should not say. Especially to an Heir. Their society was very strict about the roles. There were the Heirs. They were firstborns, the ones that would inherit the title and the money. They could do whatever the hell they wanted, which is why Hope still managed to attend any Ball she wanted or walk unbothered in the streets even if she neglected her duties or every once in a while was caught with questionable people.

Then there were other children. Second, third and fourth-borns or people born from families without titles. They would not inherit titles so they should marry someone that would. Like aunt Rebekah had married an Earl, Marcel, and aunt Freya had married a baroness, Keelin. Lizzie and her twin didn’t have any titles to inherit so they were supposed to just be nice enough that someone would like to marry them. Lady Josie had been successful during her very first season. She had made Penelope, one of Hope’s old friends from school, fall in love with her. Hope had attended that wedding just because she wanted to tease her old friend that used to shout to the whole world that she would never be as stupid as to fall in love.

Lizzie glanced across the room and sighed before turning back to Hope. "I keep trying, but no, apparently not. I imagine it's why I am still unmarried." Lizzie said shrugging.

Hope smiled. "Surely not."

"Oh, indeed," she said "Heirs need to be trapped into marriage, whether they realize it or not, and I seem to be completely lacking in the ability."

Hope grinned then. "You mean you're not sneaky and cunning?"

"I'm both those things," Lizzie admitted nonchalantly, "just not subtle."

"No," Hope murmured. “You’re not. But tell me," Hope continued, "cause I'm most curious. Why do you think Heirs must be trapped into marriage?"

"Would you go willingly to the altar?" Lizzie asked unbelieving.

"No, but— "

"You see? I remain affirmed." And somehow Hope could see that that made Lizzie feel a great deal better.

"Shame on you, Miss Saltzman," Hope said. "It's not very sporting of you not to allow me to finish my statement."

She cocked her head. "Did you have anything interesting to say?"

She smiled, and Lizzie felt it down to her toes. "Do you want me to whisper something really interesting to you?" Hope murmured smirking at Lizzie’s blush.

"Now you're just trying to scare me." Lizzie wasn't shy, and she certainly wasn't as modest as she ought to have been, but nor was she stupid. Hope Mikaelson was not one with whom one should not play. Lizzie knew she was playing with fire, but somehow she couldn't stop herself. Hope could see that. It was like this was a competition and Lizzie wanted to win. Unfortunately for her, for some weird reason, Hope wanted to win just as much.

"Miss Saltzman," Hope said, "the devil himself couldn't scare you."

Lizzie forced her eyes to meet Hope’s. "That's not a compliment, is it?"

Hope lifted Lizzie’s hand to her lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across her knuckles. "You'll have to figure that out for yourself," she murmured.

To all who observed, Hope was being the soul of propriety, but Lizzie caught the daring gleam in her eye, and she felt the breath leave her body as tingles of electricity rushed across her skin. Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say, not a single word. There was nothing but air, and even that seemed in short supply.

And then Hope straightened as if nothing had happened and said, "Do let me know what you decide." Lizzie just stared at her blankly. "About the compliment," Hope added smirking. "I am sure you will wish to let me know how I feel about you." Lizzie’s mouth fell open and she had nothing to say. She couldn’t think of anything to say. Hope smiled broadly. "Speechless, even. I should be highly praised for managing that."

"You— " Lizzie started.

"No. No," Hope said, lifting one hand in the air. "Don't ruin it. The moment is too rare."

And Lizzie could have said something. She _should_ have said something. But all she could do was stand there like an idiot, or if not that, then like someone completely unlike herself.

"Until next time, Miss Saltzman," Hope murmured.

And then she was gone.

The very next day after the Musicale, Hope was in a good mood. It was weird, she thought, that she was this light-humored after enduring an hour of social interaction. She was leaving her bedroom to go have breakfast with her family when one of her cousins, Nik, passed running through her holding something. Hope would ignore it because Nik, Freya and Keelin’s son, would usually be running around the house teasing his younger sister or one of Rebekah’s daughters. Hope was just going to the stairs when she heard a thump coming from the nursery. She looked around. Surely one of the kids’ nannies would be around to check on them. But after she waited a whole minute and no rushed paces of adults came, Hope decided to go check on them herself. Being like they were, the children probably locked the poor nanny inside a room and were causing hell alone. Hope sometimes found it annoying the she was so much older than all her cousins. Rebekah’s daughters were five and four while Freya’s kids were seven and three. Kol and Davina were just expecting their first kid. Hope laughed. Fertile as the Mikaelsons were, they would probably still be having children after Hope started having her own. That thought made Hope pause. She knew she would have to have children someday, of course. She was the Heir as her parents put it, she had to carry on their title. The thing that made her pause was that she had never really stopped to think about having children. She looked at her small cousins when she entered the nursery. Angelical faces to devilish behaviors.

“What are you guys up to?” Hope asked noticing that Nik was hiding something behind his back. The girls, usually quick to turn on Nik because he was older than them, held him and picked up a book from his hand and hand it over to Hope.

“Here, cousin Hope.” Said Marcela, Rebekah’s eldest daughter and Nik’s enemy in pranks.

“What is this?” Hope frowned looking at the hand-written book.

“I found it in aunt Hayley’s bedchamber so it’s mine.” Nik said arrogantly.

“I have the highest title here so I decide what is yours.” Marcela said, a perfect copy of her mother’s manners. Their younger sisters were just looking between them to see who would win this particular battle. Hope sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Correction. I’m the highest title so it’s mine.” Hope said smiling teasingly at them. “Now show me where you found it.” Hope asked when she noticed that although he had found it in Hope’s mom’s bedchamber, this book; a diary now that Hope had looked at it; wasn’t in Hope’s mom’s handwriting. After following the kids into her mom’s bedroom, she watched in amusement as Nik and Marcela entered the closet, moved a cabinet and pointed at a secret passage.

“You guys found it?” Hope asked and Marcela stepped forward proudly.

“I did. There’s a secret door in the nursery that ends up here. I found it and then Nik found the book hidden in one of the shelves inside the passage.” Marcela explained and Hope nodded impressed. She knew about the secret passages, of course. She had found a great deal of them in this house or in the others they owned; especially the castle.

“Okay then,” Hope said putting the small book in the pocket of her coat. “Put things back in place and let’s go downstairs for breakfast and please release the nannies from whatever dark place you all locked them.” Hope said turning around and going to eat before her good mood went away.

Later that day when she was in her art room, the book fell on the floor open in one page filled with drawings. Hope picked it up frowning. She couldn’t read the book because it was written in a language she could not understand but those drawings caught her attention. Hope left her art room and went to the painting room, a huge space her family used for small gatherings and that was decorated with famous paintings. Hope went to the specific painting she wanted and gasped when she noticed that the drawing in the book and in the painting were the same. Hope looked again at the drawing dated years before the painting was made. Hope frowned and looked at the title of the painting: The Lost Crown Jewels. Then Hope gasped again. She knew what this was about.

She felt an excitement start to take over her. She always thought that it was a myth. It was said that many decades ago, ten of the Crown Jewels were stolen from the palace and no one had any idea of who, when and for what since the jewels were never sold and never seen again. They simply disappeared. Quests were made to find them and the Palace offered money and titles to whoever could retrieve the jewels. But no one had been able to do it. Hope looked again at the book, only now noticing the only sentence in English between all the other foreign words.

_“Where to hide them?”_

She closed the book and looked around as if someone was watching her. It was possible that she, after years of people giving up on this search, had found the first real clue to where they may be. Hope picked up her coat, put the book back in there and left her home with a decided look. She had to find someone that could translate it. Someone trustworthy. And there was only one person that Hope knew that was versed enough in gossip to help Hope to find this someone.

Aunt Rebekah.

****

* * *

**_Meanwhile, in a drawing room not so very far away…_ **

"Enh?" Lady Rebekah screeched. "You're not reading it excited enough!"

Lizzie allowed the book from which she was reading to fall closed, with just her index finger stuck inside to mark her place. Lady Rebekah liked to tease Lizzie when it suited her, and it seemed to suit her every time Lizzie got to the racy parts of the juicy novels that the countess enjoyed so well.

"I said," Lizzie said, leveling her gaze onto Lady Rebekah’s face, "that our dear heroine was breathing hard, no, let me check, she was breathy and short of breath." She looked up. "Breathy and short of breath?" She asked bored.

"Pfft," Lady Rebekah said, waving her hand dismissively.

Lizzie glanced at the cover of the book. "I wonder if English is the author's first language?"

"Keep reading," Lady R ordered.

"Very well, let me see, Miss Bumblehead ran like the wind as she saw Lord Savagewood coming toward her."

Lady Rebekah narrowed her eyes. "Her name isn't Bumblehead."

"It ought to be by the way she’s so stupid," Lizzie muttered.

"Well, that's true," Lady R agreed, "but we didn't write the story, did we?"

Lizzie cleared her throat and once again found her place in the text. "He was coming closer," she read, "and Miss Bumbleshoot— "

"Lizzie!"

"Butterworth," Lizzie grumbled. "Whatever her name is, she ran for the cliffs. End of chapter."

"The cliffs? Still? Wasn't she running to them at the end of the last chapter?" Rebekah asked frowning and ignoring the loud thump coming from upstairs. Her children must have broken something again, Lizzie thought shuddering. She loved Lady Rebekah and her two small girls but truth to be told, they were total savages. Lizzie imagined that that was why she prized this Tuesday book club with Lizzie so much; it was probably the only moment she had to relax and totally ignore the kids’ mischiefs.

"Perhaps it's a long way." Lizzie shrugged.

Lady Rebekah narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe you."

Lizzie shrugged. "It is certainly true that I would lie to you to get out of reading the next few paragraphs of Priscilla Butterworth's remarkably perilous life, but as it happens, I'm telling the truth." When Lady R didn't say anything, Lizzie held out the book, and asked, "Would you like to check for yourself?"

"No, no," Lady Rebekah said, with a great show of acceptance. "I believe you, if only because I have no choice."

Lizzie gave her a pointed look. "Are you blind now?”

"No." Lady R sighed, letting one hand flutter until it rested palm out on her forehead. "Just practicing my high drama. You’ll learn that when you have children of your own to tend to." Lizzie laughed out loud. "I’m not joking." Lady Rebekah said, her voice returning to its usual sharp hint. "Those kids will kill me and hide the body. If I suddenly disappear, you come looking for me but beware of the eldest, she’s all Mikaelson.” Rebekah said in a tone that showed just how much she loved her children and Lizzie smiled. Then Rebekah glanced up at the clock on the wall. "We have time for another chapter, I think."

"We agreed on one chapter each Tuesday." Lizzie said, mostly just to be annoying.

Lady R's mouth settled into a grumpy line. "Very well, then," she said, eyeing Lizzie in a sly manner, "we'll talk about something else."

_Oh, dear._

"Tell me, Lizzie," Lady Rebekah said, leaning forward, "how are your prospects these days?"

"You sound like my mother," Lizzie said sweetly.

"A compliment of the highest order," Lady R tossed back. "I like your mother, and I hardly like anyone."

"I'll be sure to tell her."

"Nah. She knows that already, and you're avoiding the question."

"My prospects," Lizzie replied, "as you so delicately put it, are the same as ever."

"Such is the problem. You, my dear girl, need a spouse."

Lizzie just stared at her. "You have gone quite mad, did you know that?"

"I'm merely married enough to get away with speaking my mind. You'll enjoy it when you find yourself a spouse, I promise." Rebekah said making Lizzie roll her eyes.

"I enjoy it now," Lizzie said.

"True," Lady Rebekah conceded. "And it's probably why you're still unmarried." Ouch, Lizzie thought. True though.

"If there were an intelligent unattached person in town," Lizzie said with a sigh, "I assure you I would set my cap for them." She let her head cock to the side with a sarcastic tilt. "Surely you wouldn't see me married to a fool."

"Of course not, but— "

"And stop mentioning your niece as if I weren't intelligent enough to figure out what you're up to."

Lady Rebekah gasped in full huff. "I didn't say a word."

"You were about to." Lizzie accused.

"Well, she's perfectly nice," Lady Rebekah muttered, not even trying to deny it, "and more than gorgeous and you like girls."

Lizzie caught her lower lip between her teeth, trying not to remember how very strange she'd felt at the Musicale with Hope Mikaelson sat at her side. That was the problem with her, she realized. Lizzie didn't feel like herself when she was near. And it was the most disconcerting thing.

"I see you don't disagree," Lady R said smugly as if she were the sole responsible for her niece’s good looks.

"About your niece’s pretty visage? Of course not." Lizzie replied, since there was little point in debating it. There were some people for whom good looks were a fact, not an opinion. And Hope was one of them.

"And," Lady Rebekah continued in grand fashion, "I'm happy to say that she inherited her smarts from me.” Lizzie glanced up at the ceiling in an attempt to avoid comment but Lady R continued talking. “My dear Hope is a prize, and you're a fool if you don't— "

"Your niece," Lizzie cut in, "isn't the least bit interested in me or any marriageable person, for that matter."

"Well, that is a problem," Lady Rebekah agreed, "and for the life of me, I don't know why. She’s a rogue, it's true," the countess sailed on, "but it's nothing you can't overcome if you put your mind to it."

"I'm not going to— "

"Just yank your dress down a little when you see her," Lady Rebekah cut in, waving her hand impatiently in front of her face. "Hope will lose all sense at the sight of it. You'll have her—"

"Lady Rebekah!" Lizzie crossed her arms. She did have her pride, and she wasn't about to go chasing after a rake who clearly had no interest in marriage. That sort of public humiliation she could do without.

"Oh, very well," Lady Rebekah said, sounding exceedingly grumpy. "I won't say another word."

"Ever?"

"Until," Lady R said firmly.

"Until when?" Lizzie asked suspiciously.

"I don't know," Lady Rebekah replied, in much the same tone. Which Lizzie had a feeling meant five minutes only. The countess was silent for a moment, but her lips were pursed, signaling that her mind was up to something that was probably devious in the extreme. "Do you know what I think?" she asked.

"Usually," Lizzie replied sighing.

Lady R scowled. "You are entirely too mouthy." Lizzie just smiled and ate another biscuit. "I think," Lady Rebekah said, "that we should write a book."

To Lizzie’s credit, she didn't choke on her food. "I beg your pardon?"

"I need a hobby besides trying to marry off Hope and making sure my kids don’t destroy this fine house," Lady R said. "To keep the mind sharp. And surely we could do better than Miss Butterworth and the Mealymouthed Baron."

"Mad Baron," Lizzie said automatically.

"Precisely," Lady R said. "Surely we can do better."

"I'm sure we could, but it does beg the question— why would we want to?"

"Because we can."

Lizzie considered the prospect of a creative association with Lady Rebekah, of spending hours upon hours—

"No," she said, quite firmly, "we can't."

"Of course we can," Lady R said, hitting the couch with her fan. "I'll think up the ideas, and you can figure out how to word it all."

"It doesn't sound like a fair division of labor." Lizzie remarked.

"And why should it be?" She retorted and Lizzie opened her mouth to reply, then decided there was really no point. Lady Rebekah frowned for a moment, then finally added, "Well, think about my proposal. We'd make an excellent team."

"I shudder to think," came a slightly amused voice from the doorway, "what you might be attempting to coerce poor Miss Saltzman into now."

"Hope!" Lady Rebekah said with obvious pleasure. "How nice of you finally to come visit me. I just saw you earlier today for breakfast at your house." Lizzie turned just as Hope Mikaelson had just stepped into the room, looking alarmingly gorgeous. A shaft of sunlight was streaming through the window, landing on her hair and making it look more ginger than it actually was.

Her presence was most surprising. Lizzie had been visiting Rebekah for their book club every Tuesday for a year now, and their paths had crossed only a few times. She had begun to think Hope might be purposefully avoiding her. Which begged the question— why was she here now?

"Finally?" Hope echoed with amusement. "You do forget a lot that I always visit you, aunt. I think it must be the age.” Hope said to Lizzie just to annoy her aunt and Rebekah gasped. Then she hit Hope with the fan.

"Don’t you even dare," she shouted, "and if you value your life, you wouldn’t blaspheme in such a manner again." Rebekah finished with her dramatic antics that always made Lizzie laugh.

"The Gospel according to Rebekah Mikaelson," Lizzie murmured. Hope Mikaelson flashed her a grin, which surprised her, first because she hadn't thought she would hear her remark, and second because it made her seem so sweet and innocent, when Lizzie knew for a fact that she was neither.

Although…

Lizzie fought the urge to shake her head. There was always an although. Lady R's "finallys" aside, Hope Mikaelson was a frequent visitor at Lady Rebekah’s House. It made Lizzie wonder if she was truly the rogue society made her out to be. No true devil would be so devoted to her family as Lizzie would usually hear that Hope was. Yes, she declined any invitation to mingle with people, but she never declined an invitation to spend time with her family.

Hope was a puzzle. And Lizzie hated puzzles.

Well, no, in truth she loved them. Provided, of course, that she solved them. The puzzle in question walked across the room, leaning down to drop a kiss on her aunt’s cheek.

"Miss Saltzman," Lady Mikaelson said, settling onto the sofa and allowing one ankle to rest rather lazily on the opposite knee. As if Lizzie could ever sit that way. She would be publicly chastised if she did that. "It must be Tuesday."

"It must," Lizzie agreed maybe with a bit of an attitude.

"How’s Priscilla Butterworth?" Hope asked and Lizzie lifted her brows, surprised that she knew which book they were reading.

"She is running for the cliffs," she replied. "I fear for her safety, if you must know. Or rather, I would," she added, "if there were not eleven chapters still to be read."

"Pity," Hope remarked. "The book would take a far more interesting turn if she was killed off."

"Have you read it, then?" Lizzie asked politely. For a moment it seemed Hope would give her a _Surely You’re Joking_ look, but she punctuated the expression with, "My aunt likes to recount the tales when I see her each Wednesday. Which I always do," she added, sending a glance in Lady Rebekah’s direction. "And most Fridays and Sundays as well."

"Insolence aside," Lady Rebekah continued determinedly, gesturing toward Hope as if she were some sort of zoological specimen, "she really is an exceptional niece. Couldn't have asked for more." Hope watched with amusement as Lizzie murmured something that was meant to convey her agreement without actually doing so. "This being a Tuesday," her aunt said, “what brings you by?"

Hope wrapped her fingers around the book in her pocket. She’d been so intrigued by its existence since Marcela had handed it over that she had completely forgotten about her aunt’s weekly visit with Miss Saltzman. If she'd been thinking clearly, she would have waited until later in the afternoon, after she had departed. But now she was here, and she had to give them some reason for her presence. Otherwise— God help her— her aunt would assume she'd come because of Miss Saltzman, and it would take months to dissuade her of the notion.

"What is it?" her aunt asked, in her impatient way. "Speak up."

Hope turned to Lizzie, slightly pleased when she squirmed a little under her intent stare. "Why do you visit my aunt?" she asked really curious.

She shrugged. "Because I like her." Hope watched her curiously. Her aunt wasn't the easiest person to befriend, and if Lizzie Saltzman happily sacrificed her Tuesday afternoons to be with her, that was certainly a point in her favor. Not to mention that Lady Rebekah hardly liked anyone, and she raved about Miss Saltzman at every possible opportunity. It was, of course, partly because she was trying to pair the two of them up; Hope’s aunt had never been known for her tact or subtlety. But still, if Hope had learned one thing over the years, it was that her aunt was a smart judge of character. And besides, the diary was written in Italian. Even if it did contain some indiscreet secret, Miss Saltzman would hardly know.

Her decision made, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the book.

* * *

**_At which point Lizzie’s life finally becomes almost as exciting as Priscilla Butterworth's. Minus the cliffs, of course…_ **

Lizzie watched with interest as Hope Mikaelson appeared to hesitate. She glanced over at Lizzie, her blue eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly before she turned back to her aunt. Lizzie tried not to look too interested; she was obviously trying to decide if she should mention her business in her presence, and she suspected that any interference on her part would cause Hope to keep it to herself. After a brief moment of silence though, Hope reached into her pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a small, leather-bound book.

"What is this?" Lady Rebekah asked, taking it into her hands.

"Someone’s diary," she replied. "One of the kids found it in one of the secret passages of the Mikaelson House."

"It's in Italian," Lady Rebekah said.

"Yes, I was aware." Hope replied.

"I meant, why did you bring it to me? I don’t speak Italian." she asked, somewhat impatiently.

Hope gave her a lazy half smile. "You are always telling me you know everything, or if not everything, then everyone."

"You said that to me earlier this afternoon," Lizzie put in helpfully.

"I was hoping," Hope said to her aunt, "that you might know of a reputable translator."

"For Italian?" Rebekah asked and Hope rolled her eyes.

"It would seem to be the required language."

“Italian? Not nearly as universal as French, which of course any decent person would— "

"I can read Italian," Lizzie interrupted and two pairs of eyes swung her direction.

"You're joking," Hope Mikaelson said, coming in a mere half second before her aunt shouted, "You can?"

"You don't know everything about me," Lizzie said mischievously to Lady Rebekah.

"Well, yes, of course," Lady R blustered, "but Italian?"

"I had an Italian governess when I was small," Lizzie said with a shrug. "It amused her to teach me. I'm not fluent," she allowed, "but given a page or two, I can make out the general meaning."

"This is quite more than a page or two," Hope Mikaelson said, tilting her head toward the diary.

"Clearly," Lizzie replied petulantly. "But I'm not likely to read more than a page or two at a time. And she didn't write it in the style of the ancient Romans, did she?"

"That would be Latin," Hope Mikaelson said with a raised eyebrow just to annoy her.

Lizzie clamped her teeth together. "Nevertheless," she ground out.

"For the love of God, Hope," Lady Rebekah cut in, "just give her the book." So Hope rose to her feet, plucked the slim book from her aunt’s hands, and turned toward Lizzie. She hesitated then— just for a moment, and Lizzie would have missed it had she been looking anywhere but directly at her face. Hope brought the book to her then, holding it out with a softly murmured, "Miss Saltzman." Lizzie accepted it, shivering against the odd feeling that she had just done something far more powerful than merely taking a book into her hands.

"The pages are slightly brittle," Lizzie said, carefully turning one.

"What does it say?" Hope asked making Lizzie grit her teeth. It was never fun to be forced to perform under pressure, and it was near impossible with Hope Mikaelson breathing down her neck.

"Give her some room!" Lady R said.

Hope moved, but not enough to make Lizzie feel any more at ease. "Well?" she demanded.

Lizzie’s head bobbed slightly back and forth as she worked out the meaning. "She's writing about her upcoming wedding," she said. "I think she was due to marry in a few weeks"— she bit her lip as she scanned down the page for the appropriate words— "three weeks. I gather the ceremony was in Italy."

Hope nodded once before urging her with, "And does she say something more?"

"And…" Lizzie wrinkled her nose, as she always did when she was thinking hard. It wasn't a terribly attractive expression, but the alternative was simply not to think, which she didn't find appealing.

"What did she say?" Lady Rebekah urged too.

"Orrendo orrendo…," Lizzie murmured. "Oh, right." She looked up. "She's not very happy about it. I don’t think she loved that person."

"What else?" Hope Mikaelson asked impatiently.

"I told you I'm not fluent," Lizzie finally snapped. "I need time to work it out."

"Take it home," Lady Rebekah said. "You'll be seeing Hope tomorrow night, anyway."

"I am?" Lizzie asked, at precisely the moment Mikaelson said, "She will?"

"You're accompanying me to the Poetry Reading," Lady Rebekah told her niece. "Or have you forgotten?"

Lizzie sat back, enjoying the sight of Hope Mikaelson's mouth opening and closing in obvious distress. She looked a bit like a fish, she decided. A fish with the features of a Greek goddess, but still, a fish.

"I really…" she said. "That is to say, I can't— "

"You can, and you will be there," Lady Rebekah said. "You promised."

Hope regarded her aunt with a stern expression. "I cannot imagine— "

"Well, if you didn't promise, you should have done, and if you love me…"

Lizzie coughed to cover her laugh, then tried not to smirk when Hope Mikaelson shot a dirty look in her direction.

"I'll be there," she sighed.

"Bring wool for your ears," Lizzie advised to what Hope looked aghast.

"It cannot possibly be worse than last night's Musicale." Hope said shuddering and Lizzie couldn't quite keep one corner of her mouth from tilting up when she said:

"It’s Sung Poetry." Across the room, Lady Rebekah chuckled with glee at her niece’s distressed figure. "I had best be getting home," Lizzie said, rising to her feet. "I shall try to translate the first entry before I see you tomorrow evening, Lady Mikaelson."

"You have my gratitude, Miss Saltzman." She said and Lizzie nodded and crossed the room, trying to ignore the strangely giddy sensation growing in her chest. It was just a book, for heaven's sake. And Hope Mikaelson was just a woman.

It was annoying, this strange compulsion she felt to impress her. She wanted to do something that would prove her intelligence and wit, something that would force Hope to look at her with an expression other than vague amusement.

"Allow me to walk you to the door," Hope Mikaelson said, falling into step beside her.

Lizzie turned, then felt her breath stop short in surprise. She hadn't realized she was standing so close. "I…ah…" It was her eyes, Lizzie realized. So blue and clear she ought to have felt she could read her thoughts, but instead she rather thought Hope could read hers.

"Yes?" Hope murmured, placing her hand on Lizzie’s elbow.

She shook her head. "It's nothing."

"I don't believe I've ever seen you at a loss for words. Except for the other night," Hope added, cocking her head ever so slightly to the side. Lizzie looked at her, narrowing her eyes. "At the Musicale," Hope supplied helpfully. "It was lovely." Hope smiled, most annoyingly. "Wasn't it lovely?"

Lizzie clamped her lips together. "You barely know me, Lady Mikaelson.” Lizzie said.

"Your reputation precedes you."

"As does yours."

"Touché, Miss Saltzman," she said, but Lizzie didn't particularly feel like she'd won the point.

Lizzie saw her maid waiting by the door, so she extricated her hand from Hope Mikaelson’s elbow and left the house. "Until tomorrow.” she said.

And as the door shut behind her, she could have sworn she saw Hope smirking.

When Lizzie arrived home she learned that her mother had been waiting for her.

_This is not good._

"Maya Machado," Lady Caroline announced, "is getting married."

"Today?" Lizzie asked taking off her gloves.

Her mother gave her a look. "She has become engaged. Her mother told me this morning."

Lizzie looked around. "Were you waiting for me in the hall?"

"To Lady Alyssa Chang," Caroline added. "A Countess."

"Have we any tea?" Lizzie asked. "I walked all the way home and I'm thirsty."

"A Countess!" Caroline exclaimed, looking about ready to throw up her hands in despair. "Did you hear me?"

"Lady Alyssa Chang," Lizzie said obligingly. "Her nails are too long."

"She's— " Caroline stopped short. "Why were you noticing her nails?"

"I couldn't very well miss it," Lizzie replied wickedly. She handed her purse— which contained the Italian diary— to a maid. "Would you take this to my room, please?"

Caroline waited until the maid left. "I have tea in the drawing room, and there is nothing wrong with Lady Alyssa Chang’s nails."

Lizzie shrugged. "If you like that kind of sex."

"Lizzie!" Her mother shouted blushing and then looked around as if all the mothers in town were there to watch her fail as a mother.

Lizzie sighed tiredly, following her mother into the drawing room. "Mother, you have half of your children married, and quite happy with her choice. Why must you try to push me into an unsuitable alliance?"

Caroline sat and prepared a cup of tea for Lizzie. "I'm not," she said, "but Lizzie, couldn't you even look?"

"Mother, I— "

"Or for my sake, pretend to?"

Lizzie could not help but smile. Her mother held the cup out, and Lizzie picked it up. "Thank you," Lizzie said, tasting the slightly sweet tea. It wasn't quite as hot as she preferred, but she drank it anyway.

"Lizzie," her mother said, in that tone of voice that always made Lizzie feel a little guilty, even though she knew better, "you know I only wish to see you happy."

"I know," Lizzie said. That was the problem. Her mother did only wish her to be happy. If Caroline had been pushing her toward marriage for social glory or financial gain, it would have been much easier to ignore her. But no, her mother loved her and truly did want her to be happy, not just married, and so Lizzie tried her best to maintain her good humor through all of her mother's sighs.

"I would never wish to see you married to someone whose company you did not enjoy," Caroline continued.

"I know."

"And if you never met the right person, I would be perfectly happy to see you remain unwed.” Lizzie eyed her dubiously. "Very well," Caroline amended, "not perfectly happy, but you know I would never pressure you to marry someone unsuitable."

"I know," Lizzie said again.

"But darling, you'll never find anyone if you don't look."

"I look!" Lizzie protested. "I have gone out almost every night this week. I even went to the Children’s Musicale last night. Which," she said quite pointedly, "I might add you did not attend."

Lady Caroline coughed then. "I have a bit of a cough, I'm afraid." Lizzie said nothing, but no one could have mistaken the look in her eyes. "I heard you sat next to Hope Mikaelson," Caroline said, after an appropriate silence.

"Do you have spies everywhere?" Lizzie grumbled.

"Almost," Caroline replied. "It makes life so much easier."

"For you, perhaps."

"Did you like her?" Caroline persisted.

Like her? It seemed such an odd question. Did she like Hope Mikaelson? Did she like that it always felt as if she was silently laughing at Lizzie, even after she'd agreed to translate the diary? Did Lizzie like that she could never tell what Hope was thinking, or that she left her feeling unsettled, and not quite herself?

"Well?" her mother asked.

"Somewhat," Lizzie evaded. Caroline didn't say anything, but her eyes took on a gleam that terrified Lizzie to her very core. "Don't." Lizzie warned.

"She would be an excellent match, Lizzie."

Lizzie stared at her mother as if she'd sprouted an extra head. "Have you gone mad? You know her reputation as well as I."

Lady Caroline brushed that aside instantly. "Her reputation won't matter once you're married."

"It would if she continued to be scandalous after we’re married."

"She wouldn't." Caroline said, waving her hand dismissively.

"How could you possibly know that?" Lizzie gave her a look.

Caroline paused for a moment. "I don't know," she said. "I suppose it's a feeling I have."

"Mother," Lizzie said with a great show of kindness, "you know I love you dearly— "

"Why is it," Caroline pondered, "that I have come to expect nothing good when I hear a sentence beginning in that manner?"

"But," Lizzie cut in, "you must forgive me if I decline to marry someone based upon a feeling you might or might not have."

Caroline sipped her tea with rather impressive nonchalance.

"It's the next best thing to a feeling _you_ might have. And if I may say so myself, my feelings on these things tend to be right on the mark." At Lizzie’s dry expression, she added, "I haven't been wrong yet and there is your sister as proof; happily married and with three children."

Well, that was true, Lizzie had to acknowledge. To herself, of course. If she actually admitted as much out loud, her mother would take that as a cue to pursue Hope Mikaelson until she ran away screaming.

"Mother," Lizzie said, pausing for slightly longer than normal to steal a bit of time to organize her thoughts, "I am not going to chase after Lady Mikaelson. She's not at all the right sort of person for me."

"I'm not certain you'd know the right sort of person for you if they arrived on our doorstep riding an elephant." Caroline kindly put.

"I would think the elephant would be a fairly good indication that I ought to look elsewhere."

"Lizzie!"

"And besides that," Lizzie added, thinking about the way Hope Mikaelson always seemed to look at her in that vaguely condescending manner of hers, "I don't think she likes me very much."

"Nonsense," Caroline said, with all the outrage of a mother hen. "Everyone likes you."

Lizzie thought about that for a moment. "No," she said, "I don't think everyone does."

"Lizzie, I am your mother, and I know— "

"Mom, you're the last person anyone would tell if they didn't like me."

"Nevertheless— "

"Mother," Lizzie cut in, setting her teacup firmly in the table, "it is of no concern. I don't mind that I am not universally adored. If I wanted everyone to like me, I'd have to be kind and charming and bland and boring all the time, and what would be the fun in that?"

"You sound like Lady Rebekah." Caroline said frowning.

"I like Lady Rebekah."

"I like her, too, but that doesn't mean I want her as my daughter."

"Mother— "

"You won't set your cap for Lady Mikaelson because she scares you." Her mother said.

Lizzie actually gasped. "That is not true."

"Of course it is," Caroline returned, looking vastly pleased with herself. "I don't know why it hasn't occurred to me sooner. And she isn't the only one."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Why have you not married yet?" Caroline asked.

Lizzie blinked at the abruptness of the question. "I beg your pardon."

"Why have you not married?" Her mom repeated. "Do you even want to?"

"Of course I do." And she did. She wanted it more than she would ever admit, probably more than she'd ever realized until that very moment. She looked at her mother and she saw a matriarch, a woman who loved her family with a fierceness that brought tears to her eyes. And in that moment Lizzie realized that she wanted to love with that fierceness. She wanted children. She wanted a family. But that did not mean that she was willing to marry the first person who came along. Lizzie was nothing if not pragmatic; she'd be happy to marry someone she didn't love, provided they suited her in almost every other respect. But good heavens, was it so much to ask for a someone with some intelligence and that appreciated her own? "Mother," she said, softening her tone, since she knew that Caroline meant well, "I do wish to marry. I swear to you that I do. And clearly I have been looking."

Caroline lifted her brows. "Clearly?"

"I have had six proposals," Lizzie said, perhaps a touch defensively. "It's not my fault that none was suitable."

"Indeed."

Lizzie felt her lips part with surprise at her mother's tone. "What do you mean by that?"

"Of course none of those people was suitable. Half were after your fortune, and as for the other half— well, you would have reduced them to tears within a month."

"Such tenderness for your remaining child," Lizzie muttered. "It quite undoes me."

Caroline let out a polite snort. "Oh, please, Lizzie, you know exactly what I mean, and you know that I am correct. None of those people was your match. You need someone who is your equal."

"That is exactly what I have been trying to tell you." Lizzie said as if her mom was crazy.

"But my question to you is— why are the wrong people asking for your hand?" Lizzie opened her mouth, but she had no answer. "You say you wish to find someone who is your match," Caroline said, "and I think you think you do, but the truth is, Lizzie, that every time you meet someone who can hold their own with you, you push them away."

"I don't," Lizzie said, but not very convincingly.

"Well, you certainly don't encourage them," Caroline said. She leaned forward, her eyes filled with equal parts concern and love. "You know I love you dearly, my baby, but you do like to have the upper hand in the conversation."

"Who doesn't?" Lizzie muttered.

"Anyone who is your equal is not going to allow you to manage them as you see fit."

"But that's not what I want," Lizzie protested.

Caroline sighed. But it was a nostalgic sound, full of warmth and love. "I wish I could explain to you how I felt the day you were born," she said. “after hours and hours trying, you and your sister finally came out.”

"Mom?" Lizzie asked softly. The change of subject was sudden.

"Josie was a delight of a baby. So sweet and easy-going.” Her mother continued and Lizzie almost rolled her eyes. She had heard this story countless times. Josie was an angel and Lizzie couldn’t stop screaming even to breath. “But you…” Caroline looked at her. “My heavens, I thought you were going to shake the paint right off the walls. I remember calling the doctor every night because I thought that it was anormal for a baby to cry that much.” Caroline laughed, probably trapped in some memory that she thought particularly funny. “Months passed that way and I thanked god every day that you were still alive and didn’t have exhausted yourself to death.”

“I don’t think that’s a real cause of death.” Lizzie frowned but her mom ignored her.

“But you didn’t and you continued to scream. And then to babble all the time once you learned. And then talk. You were always so fierce that I was scared to hell.” Caroline took a breath, then reached for her tea. "In some ways I was a little too protective of you," Caroline said, her lips forming the tiniest of smiles, "and at the same time too lenient. You were so exuberant, so completely sure of who you were and how you fit into the world around you. You were a force of nature, and I didn't want to clip your wings."

"Thank you," Lizzie whispered, but the words were so soft, she wasn't even sure she'd said them aloud.

"You are kind, and you're caring, and you are far more thoughtful than I think anyone realizes. But— oh dear, I don't know how to explain this." She took a breath, her nose wrinkling as she searched for the right words. "You are so used to being completely comfortable with yourself and what you say."

"What's wrong with that?" Lizzie asked. Not defensively, just quietly.

"Nothing. I wish more people had that talent." Caroline clasped her hands together. “I always thought that it came naturally to you. But I realize now that you make yourself to be this force of nature and that it’s even more remarkable. But what I think happens is that when you don't feel that way— when something happens to give you unease— well, you don't seem to know how to manage it. And you run. Or you decide it isn't worth it." She looked at her daughter, her eyes direct and perhaps just a little bit resigned. "And that," she finally said, "is why I'm afraid you will never find the right person. Or rather, you'll find them, but you won't know it. You won't let yourself know it."

Lizzie stared at her mother, feeling very still, and very small, and very unsure of herself. How had this happened? How had she come in here, expecting the usual talk of spouses and weddings and the lack thereof, only to find herself laid bare and open until she wasn't quite certain who she was anymore. "I'll think about that," she said to her mother.

"That's all I can ask."

And it was all she could promise.

* * *

_**The next evening, in a crowded room. For some strange reason, there are twigs attached to the piano. And a small girl has a horn on her head. There's also musical intruments. Wasn't it supposed to be just poetry?** _

"People will think you're courting me," Lizzie hissed when Hope Mikaelson walked directly to her side without any pretense of glancing around the room first.

"Nonsense," she said, sitting down in the empty chair next to Lizzie. "Everyone knows I don't court anyone, and besides, I should think it would only improve your reputation."

"And here I thought modesty an overrated virtue." Lizzie murmured.

Hope flashed her a bland smile. "Not that I wish to give you any ammunition, but the sad fact of it is— most Heirs are sheep. Where one goes, the rest will follow. If they see me talking to you, they’ll want to talk to you too to see what I found interesting.” Hope said frankly and even if Lizzie did agree that people were stupid like that, she would never say that to Hope Mikaelson. “And didn't you say you wished to be married?"

"Not to someone who follows you as the lead sheep." she replied.

Hope grinned at that, a devilish smile that Lizzie had a feeling she had used to seduce legions of people. Then she looked around, as if intending to engage in something secret, and leaned in.

Lizzie couldn't help it. She leaned in too. "Yes?" she whispered.

"Haven’t I just told you people follow?" Hope Mikaelson said smirking and referring to the fact that Lizzie just mimicked her. Despite her annoyance at Hope, she found it funny and she tried to swallow her laugh, which was a mistake, since it came out as an exceedingly inelegant splutter.

"How fortunate that you weren't drinking a glass of milk." Hope said, sitting back in her chair very pleased with herself. She was still the picture of perfect composure, the damned woman. Lizzie tried to glare at her, but she was fairly certain she wasn't able to wipe the humor out of her eyes. "It would have come out your nose." Hope said with a shrug.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that's not the sort of thing you say to impress a woman?" she asked, once she'd regained her voice.

"I'm not trying to impress you, and you’ve made quite clear you’re not impressed by me." Hope replied in that confident way of hers, glancing up at the front of the room. "God," she said, blinking in surprise. "What the hell is that?"

Lizzie followed her gaze. Several of the children from the Children’s Musicale, one of whom appeared to be costumed as a shepherd, were running on the stage.

"I thought this was meant to be a poetry recitation." Hope said and at Lizzie’s look, “Or at least just a sung poetry. Why are they in costumes?”

Lizzie grimaced and shook her head. "An unexpected change to the program, I'm afraid."

"From poetry singing to full drama?" Hope asked doubtfully. "It does seem like a stretch."

Lizzie gave her a regretful look. "I think they will be doing an opera poem."

Hope’s mouth fell open. "Opera?"

Lizzie nodded, holding up the program that had been resting in her lap. "It's an original composition." she said, as if that would explain everything. "It’s called The Shepherd, the Unicorn, and Henry VIII."

"All of them? At once?"

"I'm not joking," Lizzie said shaking her head.

"Of course not. Even you couldn't have made this up." Lizzie decided to take that as a compliment. "Why didn't I receive one of these?" Hope asked, taking the program from her.

"I believe it was decided not to hand them these out to the Heirs." Lizzie said, glancing about the room. "One has to admire the Host’s foresight, actually. You'd surely flee if you knew what was in store for you."

Hope twisted in her seat. "Have they locked the doors yet?"

"No, but your aunt has already arrived." Lizzie wasn't sure, but it sounded very much like Hope groaned.

"She doesn't seem to be coming this way though" Lizzie added, watching as Lady Rebekah took a seat several rows back.

"Of course not." Hope muttered, and Lizzies knew she was thinking the same thing she was.

 _Matchmaker_.

Well, it wasn't as if Lady Rebekah had ever been especially subtle about it.

Lizzie started to turn back to the front, then halted when she caught sight of her mother, for whom she'd been holding an empty seat to her right. Lady Caroline pretended (rather badly, in Lizzie’s opinion) not to see her, and she sat down right next to Lady Rebekah and the two started to laugh at something.

"Well." Lizzie said under her breath awkwardly. Her mother had never been known for her subtlety, either, but she would have thought that after their conversation the previous afternoon, she wouldn't have been quite so obvious. A few days to reflect upon it all might have been nice. As it was, Lizzie had spent the entire past two days pondering her conversation with her mother. She tried to think about all the people she had met during her years on the Marriage Market. For the most part, she had had a fine time. She'd said what she wished and made people laugh and had rather enjoyed being admired for her wit.

But there had been a few people with whom she had not felt completely comfortable. Not many, but a few. There had been a gentleman during her first season with whom she'd been positively tongue-tied. He had been intelligent and handsome, and when he'd looked at her, Lizzie had thought her legs might give out. And then just a year ago her sister-in-law had introduced her to one of her school friends who, Lizzie had to admit, had been dry and sarcastic and more than her match. She'd told herself she hadn't liked her, and then she'd told her mother that she thought she seemed the sort to be unkind to animals. But the truth was— Well, she didn't know what the truth was. She didn't know everything, much as she tried to give the impression otherwise.

She glanced at Hope Mikaelson leaning back in her seat, her face looking a little bit bored, a little bit amused— that sophisticated and urbane sort of expression noble people across town sought to emulate. Hope, she decided, did it better than most.

"You look rather serious in this splendid evening." Hope remarked.

Lizzie looked over at the stage, children running around widely, and then back at Hope with an eyebrow raised. "Splendid?”

Hope handed the small pamphlet back to her and sighed. "I'm training myself to lie at the kids’ parents’ faces when this is over and they ask how it was."

Lizzie smiled. Hope really was funny. And intelligent. And very, very gorgeous, although that had certainly never been in doubt. Hope was, she realized, everything she'd always told herself she was looking for in a spouse.

_Good God._

"Are you all right?" Hope asked, sitting up quite suddenly, and taking Lizzie’s hand.

"Fine," she croaked. "Why?"

"You looked…" Hope cleared her throat. "Well, you looked… ah…I'm sorry. I can't say it to a lady."

"Even one you're not trying to impress?" Lizzie joked but her voice sounded a little bit strained.

Hope stared at her for a moment, then said, "Very well. You looked rather like you were going to puke."

"I'm never puke." she said, looking resolutely forward. What had she been thinking? Hope Mikaelson was not everything she'd ever wanted in a spouse. She couldn't be. "And I don't swoon, either," she added. "Ever." She said remembering annoying Landon last season.

"Now you look angry," she murmured.

"I'm not." she said, and she was rather pleased with how positively sunny she sounded.

Mikaelson had a terrible reputation, she reminded herself. Did she really wish to align herself with a woman who'd had relations with people of all sorts? Certainly not.

"I think it's beginning." She heard Hope Mikaelson sigh. Footmen and maids were crisscrossing the room, snuffing candles to dim the light. "How bad would it be," she heard Hope whisper, "if I ran for the door?"

"Right now?" Lizzie whispered back, trying to ignore the tingling feeling she got when she leaned in close. "Very bad." Hope sat back with a sad sigh, then focused on the stage, giving every appearance of polite, and only very slightly bored. But it was only one minute later when Lizzie heard Hope.

Soft, and for her ears only:

"Baaaaaaaaa."

And as everyone in the stage prepared for the show and the whole room was silent, a startling loud and very unlady-like laugh was heard across it. Lizzie’s laugh.

* * *

**_Ninety mind-numbing minutes later, and sadly, our heroine wasn’t very convincing at lying to the parents._ **

"Do you drink wine, Miss Saltzman?" Hope asked, keeping her eyes on the stage as she stood and applauded.

"Of course not, but I've always wanted to taste it, why?" Lizzie asked.

"Because we both deserve a drink." Hope said enjoying when she heard Lizzie’s suppressed laugh.

"Well, the unicorn was rather sweet." Lizzie said.

Hope snorted. The _unicorn_ couldn't have been more than ten years old. Which would have been fine, except that _Henry VIII_ had insisted upon taking an unscripted ride on it. "I'm surprised they didn't have to call for a surgeon," Hope muttered.

Lizzie winced. "She did seem to be limping a bit."

"I had to hold myself not to whinny in pain on her behalf. Good God, who— Oh! Lord Christian," Hope said, pasting a smile on her face with what she thought was admirable speed. "How nice to see you."

"Lady Mikaelson," Lord Christian said effusively. "I'm so delighted you could attend."

"I wouldn't have missed it." Hope said, the smile starting to hurt her face.

"And Miss Saltzman," Lord Christian said, clearly angling for a bit of gossip. "Do I have you to thank for Lady Mikaelson’s appearance?"

"I'm afraid her aunt is to blame," Lizzie replied. "She threatened her with her fan." Lizzie joked and Hope had to bit her lip to hold a laugh. Lord Christian didn't seem to know quite how to respond to this display of sassiness from Lizzie, so he turned back to Hope, clearing his throat few times before asking, "Have you met my son and daughter?"

Hope managed not to grimace. This was exactly why she tried to avoid these things. "Er, no, I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"The shepherd." Lord Christian said helpfully referring to the play they had just watched.

"I'm sure Lady Mikaelson would be delighted to meet Harriet." Lizzie cut in before turning to Hope with an explanatory, "The shepherd."

"Of course," Hope said. "Yes, delighted."

Lizzie turned back to Lord Christian with a smile that was far too innocent. "Lady Mikaelson is an expert on all things related to sheeps."

"Where is my fan when I need it?" Hope murmured giving Lizzie a glance.

"I beg your pardon?" Lord Christian said, leaning forward.

"I would be honored to meet your daughter." She said, since it seemed the only acceptable statement at that point.

"Wonderful!" Lord Christian exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "I know she will be so excited to meet you. I’ll also bring along my son." And then, saying something about needing to see to the rest of his guests, he was off.

"Don't look so upset," Lizzie said, once it was just the two of them again. "You're quite a catch."

Hope looked at her assessingly. "Is one meant to say such things quite so directly?"

Lizzie shrugged. "Not to people one is trying to impress."

"Touché, Miss Saltzman."

She sighed happily. "My three favorite words."

Of that, Hope had no doubt.

"Tell me, Miss Saltzman," she said, "have you begun to read the diary?"

She nodded. "I was surprised you didn't ask earlier."

"Distracted by the shepherd," she said, "although please don't say as much to her father. He’d surely take it the wrong way and I would be engaged next week."

"The families always do," she agreed, glancing around the room.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing. Just looking."

"For what?" Hope persisted.

She turned to her, her eyes wide, unblinking, and startlingly blue. "Nothing in particular. Don't you like to know everything that is going on?"

"Only as it pertains to me."

"Really?" She paused. "I like to know everything."

"So I'm gathering. And speaking of which, what have you learned of the diary?"

"Oh, yes," she said, brightening before Hope’s eyes. It seemed an odd sort of metaphor, but it was true. Lizzie Saltzman positively sparkled when she had the opportunity to speak with authority. And the strangest thing was, Hope thought it rather charming.

"I have only read twelve pages, I'm afraid," she said. "My mother required my assistance with her correspondence this afternoon, and I did not have the time I would have wished to work on it. I didn't tell her about it, by the way. I wasn't sure if it was meant to be a secret."

Hope thought of her family, overbearing and crazy as they were, and decided that, yes, it should be a secret or else every Mikaelson in town would join the search. "It's a secret," she said. "At least until I deem otherwise."

Lizzie nodded. "It's probably best not to say anything until you know what she wrote."

"What did you find out?"

"Well, she really didn't want to marry the person she was about to marry."

"What else did she say?"

"Not a great deal more," Lizzie told her. "She was only seventeen at the beginning of the diary. Her parents forced the match, and she wrote three pages about how upset she was."

"Upset?"

She winced. "Well, a bit more than upset, I must say, but— "

"We'll leave it at 'upset.' "

"Yes," she agreed, "that's best."

"How did they meet?" She asked. "Did she say?"

Lizzie shook her head. "No. She seems to have begun the journal after their introduction. Although she did make reference to a party she attended so perhaps that was it. But I don't think her husband-to-be compromised her." Lizzie said. "I would think she'd mention that in her diary."

Hope couldn't resist a little verbal poke. "Would you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Would you write about it in your diary if someone compromised you?"

Lizzie blushed, which delighted Hope. "I don't keep a diary," she said.

Oh, Hope was loving this. "But if you did…"

"But I don't," she ground out, that angry blush taking over her face. It was so charming that Hope actually thought that she had started to go mad.

"Coward," Hope said softly.

"Would you write all of your secrets down in a diary?" she countered.

"Of course not," Hope said. "Specially because it would certainly contain drawings that would surely cause a scandal to my family.”

"Drawings?" Lizzie dared to ask.

Hope flashed her a grin. "Nudes."

Lizzie blushed then. It tinged her pink with the light sprinkling of freckles across her nose. At this point, most people would have expressed their outrage, or at least pretended to, but not Lizzie. Hope watched as her lips pursed slightly— maybe to hide her embarrassed expression, maybe to bite off a retort, Hope wasn't sure which.

And she realized that she was enjoying herself. It was hard to believe, since she was standing inside a crowded room, and she was well aware that she was going to have to spend the rest of the evening avoiding a shepherd and her ambitious father, but she was enjoying herself very much.

"Are you really as bad as they say?" Lizzie asked taking Hope by surprise. She hadn't expected that.

"No," she admitted for some reason, "but don't tell anyone." She winked just to make Lizzie blush again and to have the upper hand.

"I didn't think so," Lizzie said thoughtfully. Something about her tone scared Hope. She didn't want Lizzie Saltzman thinking so hard about her. Because she had the oddest feeling that if she did, she might see right through Hope. And Hope wasn't sure that she wouldn’t flee to another country scared. "Your aunt is coming this way," Lizzie said catching Hope’s attention.

"So she is." Hope said, glad for the distraction. "Shall we attempt an escape?"

"It's far too late for that," Lizzie said, her lips twisting slightly. "She's got my mother in tow."

"Hope!" came her aunt’s voice.

"Aunt Rebekah." she said, gallantly kissing her cheek when she reached them. "It is always a pleasure to see you."

"Of course it is," she replied sassily.

Hope turned to face an older, slightly fairer, version of Lizzie. "Lady Caroline."

"Lady Mikaelson.” said Lady Caroline warmly. "It has been an age."

"I don't often attend such recitations," Hope said.

"Yes," Lady Caroline said frankly, "your aunt told me she was forced to twist your arm to attend."

Hope turned to her aunt with raised brows. "You are going to ruin my reputation."

"You've done that all on your own, sweetie.” Lady Rebekah said.

"I do have another meeting this evening, however, so I'm afraid I must take my leave." Hope said. Lady Caroline smiled much like her daughter when she was about to set a trap. "We will see you Tuesday evening, however, yes?"

"Tuesday?" Hope asked, realizing that Lady Caroline’s smile was nowhere near as innocent as it looked. Like mother, like daughter indeed.

"My daughter and her wife are hosting a large ball. I'm sure you received an invitation."

Hope was sure she had, too, but half the time she tossed them aside without even looking at them.

"I promise you," Lady Caroline continued, "there will be no opera." Trapped. And by a master, too, Hope thought.

"In that case," she said politely, "how could I refuse?"

"Excellent. I'm sure Lizzie will be delighted to see you."

"I am quite beside myself with joy," Lizzie murmured.

"Lizzie!" Lady Caroline said. She turned to Hope. "She doesn't mean that."

Hope turned to Lizzie with a smirk. "I'm crushed."

"Because I'm beside myself, or because I'm not?" she retorted and again Hope felt that weird thing causing her body to tingle.

"Whichever you prefer." Hope said and turned to the group.

"Ladies." she murmured about to take her leave.

"Don't forget the shepherd," Lizzie said, her smile sweet and just a little bit wicked. "You did promise her father."

Damn. She'd forgotten and how nice of Lizzie to remember her in front of an audience to which Hope could do nothing but go talk to them. Hope gave Lizzie a pissed look and Lizzie gave her back a blinding smile. Such a bright one that Hope felt dizzy for a moment.

And for the rest of the night, she couldn't quite forget the way her cheeks were slightly pink and the smell of her perfume.

Or maybe it was the soft sound of her chuckle.

Or maybe it was neither of those things.

Maybe it was just her.

_Oh damn._

* * *

**_The next evening, our heroine tries very hard not to think about Lizzie, which was proving itself impossible since everything remembered her of the very same person she was trying to devoid her thoughts of._ **

“I’ve heard the most interesting news about you.” Penelope said as soon as she sat in front of Hope in the couch. Hope ignored her or the fact that her butler had left her enter without announcing her. Hope would have a word with the man.

“Probably lies.” Hope said continuing her drawing without paying much attention to Penelope. She would usually visit Hope to gloat about the joys of married life.

“So is it not true that you’re consorting with my sister-in-law?” Penelope asked making Hope stop. Was their talks this apparent that people were already talking about it? Then Hope went white when she thought about her parents maybe already planning the wedding. “Relax,” Penelope said snorting when she realized Hope's train of thoughts. “people haven’t started talking too much. Yet.”

“What do you want?” Hope asked finally leaving her drawing and noticing, to her total despair, that it shared an uncanny resemblance with Lizzie. She closed the book fast and threw it across the room as if it were on fire. Penelope looked at it but decided to ignore this weird display of madness.

“I was talking to my beloved wife this morning,” Penelope started making Hope roll her eyes. Penelope always found a way to bring Josie into the conversation one way or another. Hope imagined that this was the love sickness; you have to bring up your loved one in each conversation or you might actually die. “and she was telling me that Lizzie has been uncharacteristically excited.”

“Isn’t she a perfectly normal excited person?” Hope asked nonchalantly.

“No, she usually just disses people and make them cry, Hope.” Penelope said rolling her eyes and Hope frowned. That wasn’t a good assessment of Lizzie’s personality. She was a little too sassy, or course, but that added to her charm and she was never mean. If she ever made people cry, they definitely deserved it. She would not say that to Penelope, of course, because she hadn’t been born yesterday to fall into her friend’s trap.

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed that.” Hope shrugged to which Penelope narrowed her eyes.

“But in the last days, Josie have noticed that she’s been glowing. I wonder if that has anything to do with you.” Penelope said. “God knows how we all have been counting days until Lizzie’s married off and with at least three children to placate her personality.” She said a little tiredly.

“Just like you?” Hope teased then. Penelope had been a devil before Josie. If Hope’s parents complained about her small scandals, Penelope’s were definitely worse. Even in a duel she had been involved into when she was courting Josie. But ever since she had said _‘I do’_ in church a few years ago, Penelope had been nothing but a well tamed cat. She had three little boys at home that managed to run her dry. In the few times Hope attended some Balls in Penelope’s and Josie’s residence, she had heard Josie complaining about how Penelope always conceded to the kids’ whim and spoiled them rotten. Hope had actually seen it a few times when she visited them.

“Yes, just like me.” Penelope smirked then. “It’s a common dream in our family that Lizzie have kids just like her.” She laughed. “Caroline and I spend hours fantasizing about Lizzie’s progeny tiring her to tears. Josie too probably but she won’t admit it in favor of her twin.” Penelope said and although Hope had heard _really a lot_ about Lizzie, she actually thought that having children with her looks, smarts and personality would actually be a good thing. Most people these days were morons and Lizzie was really a breath of fresh air. Again, she didn’t speak her thoughts because if she dared so, Penelope would deem her in love and start to make Lizzie’s side of the family plan the wedding.

“What do you want, Penelope?” Hope asked again. “I bet you didn’t come here to talk about how you wish Miss Saltzman’s future kids will be.”

“You’re correct. I actually came here to threaten you.” Penelope said lazily to what Hope snorted.

“Really? You’re not doing a very good job.”

“Yeah, well, Josie asked me to come here and see what are your plans to her sister or if you’re just playing with her fragile heart.”

“Lizzie doesn’t have a fragile heart.” Hope said, immediately regretting it.

“Lizzie?” Penelope asked surprised. “She doesn’t, huh?”

“Fuck off, Penelope.” Hope stood up and went to the window. “I’m not marrying her.”

“I figured that much.” Penelope said standing up too. “So it stands true the threat. If you hurt Lizzie’s heart, we’ll see each other at the end of a gun.”

“Come on, Pen. Are we men now?” Hope rolled her eyes. “You love a duel, don’t you? I’m not going to hurt Lizzie because we will never be close enough that that will be a possibility.”

“I don’t know why you avoid marriage so much.” Penelope said after some time. “You will have to have children eventually. Better do that when you’re still young enough to catch the little devils when they're being mischievous.”

“First, you avoided marriage more than I do.” Hope said accusingly but Penelope only gave her a smile.

“That was before I was literally hit in the head with love.” Penelope said, her eyes dreamy as if she were remembering the moment she fell in love. Hope looked away because it seemed too intimate for her to watch. She cleared her throat.

“And second, it’s not like Lizzie will put children in me.” Hope raised an eyebrow and Penelope snorted.

“You know how it works, Hope.” Penelope said patiently as if she were talking to a specially difficult small child. “You go to the doctors and they will inseminate you. It’s quite forward if you think about it. Or you can just get pregnant with any men you find. God knows a lot of women do that. No one cares. What they do care is that your child is born inside wedlock. God forbid a bastard. It’s fucked up, I know. It’s not like the poor child would have any fault if it was born out of wedlock but unfortunately, that’s how things work. You are born. Your parents annoy your butt until you’re married. You get married. You have children. You turn into your parents and annoy their butts to get married. It’s an unending cycle.”

“Thank you for the enlightenment, Penelope.”

“You know what? I give up.” Penelope sighed tiredly. “Just stay away from Lizzie. She pushes away people as it is. She doesn’t need a scandal to prevent her from marrying. Caroline would have a heart attack if that happened.” She then left leaving Hope feeling quite uneasy and with a strange feeling in her chest. As if it wasn’t enough that Hope was already feeling like she was going to be sick, the damned sketchbook she had thrown across the room had fallen open next to the door. In the exact same page Hope had been drawing earlier. And at this exact moment, her mother decided to enter the room and of course, Fate couldn’t be more sarcastic to Hope, she noticed the book on the floor and smiled. Hope threw herself on the couch.

She was fucked.


	2. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys? I won't talk much today because it's 2am and i have to wake up in 4 hours to go to work HAHAHA but i wanted to give you thins because i promised to port in soon.  
> I really hope you like it. As all my fic, I write it with love and dedication because I love you guys so much. Thank you for always reading my fics.
> 
> I'm quite emotional today hahaha

“Don’t, mother.” Hope said putting her arm over her eyes. She was tired.

“I was not going to say anything.” Hayley said and Hope shifted her arm a little bit in a manner that allowed her to sneak a peek at what her mother was doing. She had picked up Hope’s sketchbook from the floor and was now examining it with intensity. "Although, I must say—"

“There it comes.” Hope threw her hands in the air exasperated.

“—that this new drawing of yours shares an undeniable resemblance with certain unmarried lady that I’ve seen once or twice.” She finished and Hope gave her a look of total boredom.

“Oh, does it?” She said slowly to what Hayley only smirked.

“I believe her name is Elizabeth Saltzman.” Her mother offered but Hope ignored her. “Blonde, tall, very mouthy. I should believe you would like her well.”

“And why is that?” Hope dragged the words in a lazy way that she knew bothered her mother. Her mother didn’t seem to be bothered at it today though, because she actually smiled satisfied.

“Call it a mother’s intuition.” Hayley said shrugging.

“Or rather a mother’s gossip mill.” Hope said under her breath but Hayley only raised her eyebrows.

“You can’t fault a mother for wanting to know. Once you have—”

“I know, I know. Once I have my own children, I’ll understand how hard it is to let them spend at least one day without thinking about marriage.” Hope rolled her eyes and Hayley fixed an amused look.

“You’ve spent years doing whatever you pleased, Hope. You’ve traveled, you’ve spent a lot of money with art and studies and you’ve caused your fair share of scandal. Now is simply time for you to retire. Find yourself a spouse, settle down in maybe one of our country houses and have children. Lots of them if I may say so.”

“You may not.” Hope said and Hayley sighed much like Rebekah did when she thought that Hope was being especially frustrating.

“I simply came to let you know that your father and I will be out of town for the next week.” Hayley said making Hope frown.

“Why?” She asked. The Social Season had just begun and it wasn’t polite for the Duke and the Duchess to leave town so soon.

“We wish for a little privacy.” Hayley said but that only made Hope’s frown deepen. Mikaelson House as almost as big as the Queen’s castle. Hope had her own wing at the House. So did her mother and her father. They also had a floor for guests only. “You know how The Mikaelsons are. Rebekah and Freya love to leave their children abandoned here and something always goes missing or broken every time they visit. Elijah doesn’t appear to have his own house by the way he always sleeps here and soon enough Davina and Kol will have their child and we’ll have the task in hand to prepare the christening and present the child to the world. We are preparing for the soon-to-come exciting events.” That wasn’t enough reason for the sudden departure but it’s not like it was forbidden. Her parents could go in and out as they pleased.

“Good travels then. I’ll visit father before he leaves.” Hope said and her mother smiled softly.

“Rebekah will keep an eye on you.” Hayley said as if Hope was five. “Behave yourself, darling.” She said smirking and giving Hope back the sketchbook. Then she left the room leaving Hope staring at— she didn’t want to but she had to admit to what it was— Lizzie’s sketch.

* * *

**_The following Tuesday, in the ballroom at Penelope’s House. The candles are lit, music fills the air, and the night seems made for romance. But not, however, for Lizzie, who is learning that friends can be just as vexing as family. Sometimes more so._ **

"Sit properly, Lizzie." Lizzie heard her mother hissing at her as a gentleman passed in front of them. "And straighten up. You hold yourself as if you've labored all your life." She added with a hand on Lizzie's back making her sigh. "Don't do that, young lady. It's quite unpleasant to hear.” Lizzie then heard MG giggling at her and gave him a mortal glare. He was about to say something when his mother appeared beside him.

"What Lady Caroline said stands true for you too, Milton. And stop this giggling nonsense right away. Respectable nobles don't giggle. Instead they remain still and serene. How do you two intend to grab a spouse if you insist on acting like children?" MG's mom asked making them nod and stare ahead dutifully.

"I hate when she calls me Milton." MG whispered after a few seconds after he thought she wasn't listening.

"Well, it's your name. You can change it after you're wed and with children." His mom answered making Lizzie choke on the lemonade she was drinking. It was amusing that every problem seemed to be able to be solved if one was married. And with children, no less. God forbid not having children. Blasphemous to even think about it.

"Now go walk about the ballroom to make yourselves seen." Caroline said taking away Lizzie’s lemonade and urging her to stand up. Lizzie rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Go about that side of the room." MG's mom pointed discreetly with her chin. Lizzie almost laughed when her mom raised a pointedly eyebrow to remember Lizzie of their recent talk about the right way to point at something; Lizzie had the most unpleasant way of using her finger to do it, as her mother had said. "Lord Rafael, Lord Kaleb and Miss Hawkins are over there and they're unmarried."

"But don't approach them for heaven's sake." Caroline added especially for Lizzie. She knew her daughter well. When they finally managed to leave their mothers, MG sighed relieved.

"Thank God. I thought they would never let us leave." MG said when they were out of earshot from their mothers. After they’d walked enough, they decided to stop a little and watch some couples dancing. They kept a comfortable silence until MG glanced at Lizzie.

"Do you know whom I think you should marry? Lady Hope Mikaelson."

Lizzie looked at Milton Greasley, her closest friend, with an expression that hovered somewhere between disbelief and alarm. She absolutely, positively, was not prepared to hear that she should marry Hope, but on the other hand, she had begun to wonder if perhaps she ought to give it just a touch of consideration.

But still, _was she so transparent that her friend had seen it?_

"You're mad." Lizzie said, since she wasn't about to tell anyone that she might be developing a bit of a fancy for the woman. She didn't like to do anything if she didn't do it well, and she had a sinking feeling that she did not know how to pursue a spouse with anything resembling grace or dignity.

"Not at all." MG said. "She would be perfect for you." As Lizzie had spent the last several days thinking of nothing but Hope, she had no choice but to say:

"Nonsense. I hardly know the woman."

"No one does." MG said rolling his eyes. "She's an enigma."

"Well, I wouldn't say that." Lizzie muttered with _a face_. Enigma sounded far too romantic, and—

"Of course she is." MG said, cutting into her thoughts. "What do we know about her besides that she’s rich as Midas, does not like people and has a huge family? Nothing!”

"I'm certainly not going to marry her."

"Well, you have to marry somebody." MG said frowning.

"This is what happens when people fall in love. All they want to do is see others in the same position.” Lizzie said referring MG’s not-so-secret crush on Miss Hawkins.

"It's a noble goal." MG said smiling and staring dreamily at the woman in question. She was gorgeous, Lizzie had to admit. Black skin that glowed under the candlelit room and long hair braided with gold strings and pearls that spoke of her wealth. Beautiful, indeed, just not quite as—

And there she was. Hope Mikaelson. Lizzie felt dizzy when she walked into the ballroom, long red dress and slightly curled hair. Lizzie, that swore over all of her family members’ tombs that she would never faint, almost fainted. Hope looked amazing. And, of course, scandalous. Because no unmarried person would wear red. Then again, she was an Heir and society allowed them to walk unscathed out of any situation. It was so unfair. Also unfair was how Hope made Lizzie feel. She looked at her light blue dress; unmarried people were supposed to wear stupid pastel colors; and felt not at all as confident in her skin as she usually did.

"I am not," she said, turning to MG with renewed determination, "setting my cap for Hope Mikaelson."

"If you stop to think about it— "

"Which I won't do." Lizzie interjected.

"— you'll see that she is your perfect match."

"And how is that?" Lizzie asked, even though she knew it would only encourage MG. He turned to Lizzie and looked her squarely in the eye.

"She is the only person I can think of whom you wouldn't— or rather, couldn't— run into the ground." Lizzie looked at her friend for a long moment, feeling weirdly stung.

"I am unsure of whether to be complimented by that."

"Lizzie!" MG exclaimed. "You know I meant no insult. For heaven's sake, you’re not usually this sentimental. What is the matter with you?" He asked worried but Lizzie brushed it away.

"It's nothing." Lizzie mumbled. But between this conversation and the one the previous week with her mother, she was beginning to wonder how, exactly, the world saw her. Because she wasn't so certain it corresponded with how she saw herself.

"I wasn't saying that I want you to change." MG said, taking Lizzie’s hand in a gesture of friendship. "Goodness, no. Just that you need someone who can keep up with you. Even you must confess that most people can't."

"I'm sorry," Lizzie said, giving her head a little shake. "I overreacted. I just…I haven't felt quite like myself the last few days." And it was true. She hid it well, or at least she thought she did, but inside, she was in a bit of a turmoil. It was that talk with her mother. No, it was this thing happening with Hope. No, it was everything. Everything all at once. And she was left feeling as if she wasn't quite sure who she was anymore, which was almost impossible to bear.

"It's probably a cold," MG said, looking back out at the couples dancing. "Everyone seems to be catching one this week," Lizzie didn't contradict him. It would have been nice if it was just a simple cold. "I know you are friendly with her," MG continued. "I heard you sat together at both the Musicale and the Poetry Recitation."

"It was an opera." Lizzie said absently. "They changed it at the last moment."

"Even worse. I would have thought you'd have managed to get out of attending at least one."

"They weren't so awful." Lizzie said.

"Because you were sitting with Lady Mikaelson.” MG said with a sly smile.

"You’re quite terrible, did you know that?" Lizzie said, refusing to look at her friend. If she did, MG was sure to see the truth in her eyes. Lizzie was a good liar, but not that good, and not with him.

And the worst of it was— MG was maybe right.

"You should dance with her." MG said after a comfortable silence. Lizzie kept her eyes on the dancers.

"I can't do anything if she does not ask." Lizzie hissed.

"Of course she'll ask. You have only to stand on the other side of the room, where she is more likely to see you."

"I'm not going to chase her down, Milton." Lizzie said perhaps a little bit too strained.

MG’s smile spread across his face. "You do like her! Oh, this is lovely! I have never seen— "

"I don't like her." Lizzie cut in. And then, because she realized how juvenile that sounded, and that MG would never believe her, she added, "I merely think that perhaps I ought to see if I might like her a little bit.”

"Well, that's more than you've ever said about any other person." MG pointed out. "And you have no need to chase her down. She wouldn't dare ignore you. You are the sister of the host, and besides, wouldn't her aunt obligate her to the task if she didn't ask you to dance?"

"Thank you for making me feel like such a burden." Lizzie said sarcastically.

MG chuckled. "I have never seen you like this, and I must say, I'm enjoying it tremendously."

"I'm glad one of us is." Lizzie grumbled, but her words were lost under the sharp sound of MG’s gasp.

"What is it?" Lizzie asked.

“Don’t look now.” MG started but of course that would be the first thing Lizzie would do. “She’s coming here.” Seriously, she had to teach MG how to properly announce things. But now was too late because she had looked and Hope Mikaelson was coming her direction. Lizzie grunted because the little smirk on Hope’s lips had surely been caused by the fact that Lizzie and MG had been whispering and then Lizzie had looked at Hope just as MG, with his terrible acting skills, had told her, quite loudly, not to.

“Miss Saltzman.” Hope said as soon as she reached them. Lizzie felt herself blushing and that only made Hope’s smirk widen. Then she looked at MG. “Mr. Greasley.”

“Lady Mikaelson, we were just talking about you.” MG said making Lizzie choke on air.

“Were you?” Hope was widely grinning now. She gave Lizzie a look. “I wonder what.”

“You don’t have to wonder.” MG said with an innocent look that could have fooled anyone but Lizzie that had known him for years and had taught him everything he knew about sassiness. “Take her dancing. I believe the next one is a waltz and Lizzie’s dance card is empty.”

Lizzie turned to him sharply, not even trying to conceal her anger. Good heavens, she would kill him right here and right now. She would cut him to small pieces and feed it to the hounds of Lizzie’s step-father’s country house and then—

“Would you?” Hope asked causing Lizzie’s revengeful thoughts to be pushed aside.

“What?” Lizzie asked.

“Dance with me, of course.” Hope asked and Lizzie knew she was enjoying that very much. It wasn’t like Lizzie could deny it; Hope had made sure to make a little courtesy and her hand was now waiting for Lizzie to take. Lizzie gave MG one last angry look before turning to Hope.

“It would be my pleasure.” Lizzie said placing her hand on Hope’s and immediately forgetting all the quarrel with MG. She looked at Hope’s hands only now noticing that she wasn’t wearing any gloves. Another scandalous thing. Hope followed Lizzie’s gaze and smirked.

“I don’t like them very much.” She said and Lizzie snorted.

“Very reasonable.” She said under her breath making Hope laugh a little. They took their places in the dance floor.

“Would you wish to know what else I’m not wearing tonight?” Hope said just as they begun the dance and it was such a shocking question made in such a casual manner that Lizzie lost one step and almost fell on the floor. And Hope laughed out loud, the devil. And everyone looked at them.

* * *

**_Ten minutes earlier as Hope Mikaelson descended the stairs of Park House trying very hard not to roll her eyes at the gasps and wide eyes her dress was causing. There was only one gasp and wide eye she was interested but obviously she wouldn’t share of whom._ **

"What are you looking for?" Aunt Rebekah asked as soon as Hope left the stairs. Hope almost grunted.

"Nothing." she answered dryly.

"Very well." she said, her brows coming together in a slightly exasperated expression. "Who are you looking for, then? And don't say no one, because you’ve descended those stairs with such a distracted look that one might think you'd step on your scandalous dress and fall down." Rebekah said extremely annoying as always.

“No one. Where’s your husband? Isn’t he here to come collect you?” Hope asked pretending to be looking around for Marcel but she was actually looking for someone else.

“Oh, so you’re not looking for Miss Saltzman?” Her aunt asked using her fan to point to something behind Hope and all she could do not to turn herself so fast that she would positively break her neck was smile blankly at her aunt.

“Not really.” Hope said then casually started to shift in her place trying to get a discreet look at Lizzie. “I was merely wondering if my parents were here.” She shrugged.

“They are not.” Rebekah said. “They sent me a letter today saying that they’ll extend their trip for another week.”

“Oh.” Hope said surprised that she hadn’t received a letter too but then again she doesn’t even look at her correspondence when it arrives so she cannot very well be annoyed.

“And how about the diary?” Her aunt asked.

“What about it?” Hope asked making her aunt snort impatiently.

“Have Miss Saltzman translated it yet?” Hope found it annoying that her aunt was so interested in a simple old diary since Hope had not told her about the possible clue for the Jewels. But then again, her aunt always wanted to know everything. Hope was especially annoyed this time because for some reason she wanted to keep this finding between she and Lizzie.

“Not everything. I suppose I should ask her about it today.” Hope said casually, seizing this opportunity to look back at where her aunt had pointed earlier. And there Lizzie was standing across the ballroom like a vision in blue silk. She looked especially lovely this evening. She'd done something different with her hair. Hope wasn't sure what; she was rarely observant enough to notice such things. But it was altered somehow. It must have framed her face differently, because something about her didn't look quite the same. Hope felt herself start walking instinctively. As she walked there, she noticed the young gentleman talking to Lizzie widening his eyes and telling Lizzie something. Her eyes snapped to Hope then and Hope smirked. They had been talking about her.

In any other occasion or had it been any other person, Hope would consider this a sign to run out of the Ball as if her life depended on it. For some inexplicable reason that Hope wasn’t so eager to pursue though, she found herself actually wanting to run _towards_ Lizzie.

Hope was already going to ask her for a dance but having her pushed into it by Mr. Greasley was so much funnier if only by Lizzie’s angry flush. As they were walking to the center of the ballroom where the couples were starting to take their places for the next song, Hope noticed that Lizzie was looking at her hands. Ungloved. Hope smiled.

“I don’t like them very much.” She said and heard Lizzie snorting in a very unpolite manner. Some people looked at her but dismissed it when they noticed it was just Lizzie. Hope quite liked that; the Lizzie had such a reputation that people expected her to be herself always.

“Very reasonable.” She said under her breath making Hope laugh a little. They took their places in the dance floor and as the first strings of a waltz started to play, Hope smiled wickedly.

“Would you wish to know what else I’m not wearing tonight?” She asked and Lizzie stumbled. Quite ungracefully and Hope couldn’t hold herself anymore. She laughed and the oddest thing ever happened. For the first time in her life she was completely happy in the center of a ballroom with thousands of people looking at her expectantly.

The oddest feeling indeed.

_And after the Ball was over and everyone was leaving for the comfort of their homes, the single common thought in all of their gossip-prone collective mind would be that Lady Mikaelson was finally in love; and for Miss Saltzman, of all people. By this time tomorrow, all the betting books in town would have wages on when the wedding would happen._

Hope had always enjoyed dancing but it became apparent with the first— no, one must be fair, probably not until the sixth— step that this would be no ordinary waltz. Lizzie Saltzman, Hope was quite amused to note, was a clumsy dancer.

Hope couldn't help but smile. She didn't know why she found this so entertaining. Maybe it was because Lizzie was so capable in everything else she did; Hope had heard that she'd recently challenged a young man to a horse race in the town square and won. And Hope was quite certain that if she ever found someone willing to teach her to fence, she'd soon be stabbing her opponents through the heart.

But when it came to dancing…

Hope should have known that Lizzie would try to lead.

"You look lovely tonight." Hope said, hoping that a spot of conversation might distract her, since it always seemed that one danced with more grace when one wasn't thinking quite so hard about it.

“You, in comparison, look quite scandalous.” Lizzie said honestly and again Hope felt the laugher bubbling down in her belly until she laughed out loud.

“You shouldn’t laugh so much, Lady Mikaelson.” Lizzie said after Hope stopped laughing. Hope raised an eyebrow.

“And why is that, Miss Saltzman?” She asked amused.

“You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Your reputation?” Hope asked and Lizzie smirked.

“I rarely cause people to laugh, Lady Mikaelson. They usually cry in despair or clear their throats uncomfortably.” To which Hope laughed again. She noticed the amused and interested glances of the people around them but she couldn’t care.

“They’re all fools,” Hope shook her head. “They can’t match your wit.” _Like I do_ was what Hope didn’t say but that hovered in the air with more intensity than the actual words would. Lizzie looked away smiling softly. After a few steps, she looked at Hope with excited eyes.

"I suppose you want to hear about my progress with the diary.” She said and Hope nodded distractedly. She had completely forgotten that she had come here exactly for that.

“Yes, of course. Do tell me, please.” Hope asked and Lizzie smiled.

“I’m up to when she arrived here,” Lizzie started. "It might not seem like much— "

"It seems like quite a lot," Hope said, exerting a bit more pressure on the small of Lizzie’s back. A little more, and maybe she could force…her…to turn…

Left.

Phew.

It was quite the most exerting waltz she'd ever danced.

"Well, I'm not fluent," she said. "As I told you. So it's taking me much longer than if I could just sit down and read it like a book."

"You don't need to make excuses since you are making me a favor," Hope said softly, wrenching her to the right.

She stepped on Hope’s toe and Hope cursed internally.

"Sorry," Lizzie muttered, her cheeks turning pink. "I'm not usually so clumsy."

Hope bit her lip. She couldn't possibly laugh at her. It would break her heart. Lizzie Saltzman, she was coming to realize, didn't like to do anything if she didn't do it well. And Hope suspected that she had no idea that she was such an abysmal dancer, not if she took the toe-stomping as such an aberration.

It also explained why she felt the need to continually remind Hope that she wasn't fluent in Italian. She couldn't possibly bear for Hope to think she was slow without a good reason.

"I've had to make a list of words I don't know," she said. "I'm going to send them by post to my former governess. I'm sure she'll be happy to translate them for me. But even so— "

She grunted slightly as Hope swung her to the left, somewhat against her will.

"Even so," she continued doggedly, "I'm able to work out most of the meaning. It's remarkable what you can deduce with only three-quarters of the total."

"I'm sure," Hope commented, mostly because some sort of agreement seemed to be required. Then she asked, "Why don't you purchase an Italian dictionary? I will assume the expense." Hope said but then almost grunted at how she had cornered Lizzie. She couldn’t either say that she needed it because unmarried people couldn’t accept gifts from people that weren’t courting them nor could she say no because it would be unpolite. “I actually have one at Mikaelson Residence. I’ll lend it to you. I’ll see that it arrives at your house the first thing in the morning.” Hope said.

“Oh, thank you, Lady Mikaelson.” Lizzie nodded pleased. “It will be quicker then and I believe I’ll have it finished as soon as two days with the assistance of the dictionary. I've made fair progress, even if it is a bit slow. As I said, I'm already up to her arrival but she doesn't make entries every day. In fact, she often skips several weeks at a time. She only devoted one paragraph to the sea crossing— just enough to express her delight that her new husband was afflicted by seasickness."

"One must take one's happiness where one can," Hope murmured.

Lizzie nodded. "And also, she, ah, declined to mention her wedding night." Lizzie said blushing slightly.

"I believe we may consider that a small blessing." Hope said thinking that she would have to marry Lizzie in a hush if society learned Hope had given her a book that contained improper writing and Lizzie had been translating it to her. Good God, Hope’s parents would certainly kill her!

“Two weeks after she arrived, she was introduced to the queen as it is tradition for newlyweds. After that, she attended multiple Balls, Musicales and social events in the palace,” Lizzie said. Then she looked around and whispered, “She and the queen became lovers.” She finished making Hope choke and also look around alarmed.

“She wrote that?”

“Not explicitly.”

“So what gave you that impression?” Hope asked. Lizzie looked around again and then moved closer to Hope. She was so scandalously close that Hope feel the warm breath on her ear as Lizzie talked.

“What she wrote about the queen.” Lizzie said getting even closer then. “ _Her skin was as soft as the touch of the finest silk.”_ She recited whispering and making Hope’s hands tremble on Lizzie’s back. “ _Her lips told me extraordinary tales without muttering a word. Her hair, always contained in tight and austere braids, turned into melted gold at the touch of my skillful hands. Her body answered to mine irrevocably and in its entirety. She wasn’t hers anymore but rather mine to do as I pleased.”_ Lizzie dragged the last word making Hope’s stomach churn and her legs almost give up. “ _There were moments when I didn’t know where she finished and I began but in those moments, it also didn’t matter; we were so intertwined that we could very well be one. We were one. A Queen, that had never bent the knee for anyone, knelt before me and revered my body like I was her own goddess; and I answered all her prayers.”_ Lizzie finished. Hope realized that they had long stopped dancing and were now standing in the middle of the ballroom breathless. Hope tried to breath but Lizzie’s scent suffocated her.

“She fancied herself a poet, I see.” Hope managed to say after the silence seemed to have lasted forever.

“She did.” Lizzie said grinning and again Hope's breath caught, and she found herself grinning back. There was something infectious about Lizzie’s smile, something that forced Hope to stop what she was doing; even if it was dying out of breath; even what she was thinking, and just smile back.

When Lizzie smiled— when she really smiled, not one of those faux half smiles she did when she was trying to be clever— it transformed her face. Her eyes lit, her cheeks seemed to glow, and—

And she was gorgeous, breathtaking.

Funny how she'd never noticed it before. Funny how no one had noticed it. Hope had been attending events since she'd made her nod to society several years earlier, and while she'd never heard anyone speak of Lizzie’s looks in an uncomplimentary manner, nor had she heard anyone call her gorgeous.

Hope wondered if perhaps everyone was so busy trying to keep up with whatever it was she was saying to stop and actually look at her face.

"Lady Mikaelson? Lady Mikaelson?”

Hope glanced up. Lizzie was looking at her with a curious expression, and Hope wondered how many times she'd uttered Hope’s name.

"Under the circumstances," Hope cleared her throat, "you might as well use my given name."

Lizzie nodded approvingly. "A fine idea. You may of course use mine as well."

“Lizzie.” Hope said thinking about how right it sounded for her to say Lizzie’s nickname, an intimate one used only by family and close friends, out loud.

“Hope.” Lizzie whispered tasting it on her tongue and Hope looked at her mouth in amazement. No one had ever pronounced Hope’s name in such an intense and yet innocent manner. Hope breathed in slowly, noticing, in the back of her mind, that Lizzie was a much better dancer now that she was distracted. "Would you like to hear the remainder of what I've translated, _Hope_?" she inquired smiling softly at her name and Hope felt dizzy.

"Of course," She nodded absently.

"I believe the dance is ending," Lizzie said. "but it looks as if there is a bit of room over there," Lizzie motioned with her head to the far corner of the ballroom, where several chairs had been set up for those with weary feet. "I am sure we could manage a few moments of privacy without anyone intruding."

The waltz then drew to a close, and Hope took a step back and gave Lizzie a small bow. "Shall we?" she murmured, holding out her arm so that Lizzie might settle her hand in the crook of her elbow.

Lizzie nodded, and this time, Hope let her lead.

As they were making their way to the chairs, Hope still thinking about how Lizzie’s breath seemed just as short as Hope’s and that Lizzie’s knees had seemed to balk when they were dancing and it had nothing to do with the fact that she couldn’t dance to save her life, Mr. Kirby stepped in front of them.

He smiled warmly. "Miss Saltzman,” he said talking to Lizzie since he would never direct a word in Hope’s direction unless she did it first. She had done it only a few times out of politeness. “Lady Josie and Lady Penelope always host such lovely parties. Please convey my regards to them."

"I shall. Josie and Penelope are just over there by the champagne." Lizzie said raising her eyebrow. "In case you wished to tell them yourself." Hope felt herself holding quite an unexpected laugh and she noticed Mr. Kirby’s cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. Lizzie gave him a blank smile that was almost Hope’s undoing.

"I see." Landon murmured awkwardly looking between Lizzie and Hope before turning to Lizzie one last time. "I had best go speak with them, then. I wish you both a pleasant evening."

"Smart boy." Lizzie said, once they were alone.

"You weren't exactly subtle." Hope said smiling.

"No." she replied, "but then, I rarely am. It's a skill one must be born with, I'm afraid."

Hope smiled. "Now that you have me all to yourself again, what do you wish to do with me?" She dragged the words and smirked at Lizzie’s blush and how she ignored it and pretended to be impervious to Hope’s charms. 

"Don't you wish to hear about the rest of my readings of diary or have you forgotten?"

"Of course." Hope said shaking her head slightly. The diary. She kept forgetting it. When they sat on the chairs, Lizzie continued.

“Two years after her wedding, she birthed a child. A little girl that she loved deeply. After that, her husband stopped visiting her bedchambers since they had bred an Heir. I understand, by my readings, that he moved to their country house while she stayed in town.” Lizzie said and Hope nodded. It wasn’t uncommon for couples to live in different houses after they had birthed children. “She was still close with the queen. Since the queen had already given birth to three children before she was widowed, she didn’t arrange for another wedding and they kept seeing each other.” Lizzie smiled softly then. “They loved games and riddles. They would read mystery books and write riddles for each other to guess. They also liked to buy each other presents and make a treasure hunt to find them.” That picked Hope’s attention. Were the Jewels loss a failed treasure hunt? “You know what’s the funniest thing?” Lizzie asked.

“What?”

“Both of them are younger than us at this point in the diary and they already have been through all this.” Lizzie said smiling lost in thought. “I wonder how is it like to love like that.” She whispered a second later and Hope wondered if she had intended to say that out loud. Then Lizzie shook her head as if waking up from a trance.

“They seemed very in love.” Hope said and Lizzie nodded. “I can’t wait to know the rest of the story.”

“Well, we know how it ends.” Lizzie shrugged and Hope frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean History. We know how it ended.” Lizzie said looking carefully at Hope before looking away. “After the theft of the Crown Jewels, the Queen decided to take a resting trip to the mountains. She was quite distressed by the loss of a Royal Treasure. I believe that she, that liked riddles and hunts so much, would be especially upset about having no clue as to how they had disappeared. Well, after she arrived in her castle in the hills, she decided to take a night walk without telling anyone.”

“She fell from the cliffs and died.” Hope said just now remembering the story of how that Queen had died. For some reason, her mind had not made the connection that the queen in the diary was a real queen that had lived just a few decades ago.

“Some said that she lost her mind and ended up falling in the precipice.” Lizzie had a distant look. “Some even said that she threw herself in it because she was hiding something.” Lizzie frowned then making Hope have the impression that she had started to form a theory in her mind. Then her eyes widened. “Maybe we’ll know what actually happened after I finish the diary.” She said and Hope smiled. This had begun because Hope was slightly curious about the Long Lost Jewels but now it had become so much more if only because of the glint of amazement in Lizzie’s eyes. Hope realized, quite unnervingly, that she would do anything to keep that glint; to make it grow into starry eyes caused by Hope.

“Maybe.” Hope whispered earning another grin from Lizzie. Hope stared at it until it turned into a small smile and then into a nervous one.

“You should walk about the room.” Lizzie said when Hope had been silently staring at her for too long. “People will talk if you spend the entirety of the evening talking to me.”

“Of course.” Hope managed to said standing up and helping Lizzie up. She looked at her. “It was a pleasure to see you tonight, Lizzie.” She said taking Lizzie’s hand on hers and lightly kissing the back of Lizzie’s hand and noticing her small gasp. Hope’s heart reacted violently at that sound and she imagined that she would replay it in her mind for the rest of the evening. She swallowed.

“The pleasure was all mine,” Lizzie whispered adding a late, “Hope.” That made nothing to calm Hope’s heart.

Then Hope turned around, her vision blurry and her legs weak, and rushed out of the ballroom.

Only when she was home drinking a glass of wine and staring at a new painting she was making that had started to look familiar, that she noticed that she had left the ball without talking to anyone but her aunt and Lizzie. She hadn’t even talked to the host and that most certainly would be the gossip of the town tomorrow. She wanted to be mad about it; had been mad about it when people had gossiped about her and the multiple scandals they had put her in, mostly lies. But as she finally realized that the reason why her painting looked familiar was because it looked like Lizzie Saltzman, Hope also realized that she couldn’t care less about the gossip.

Then she smiled, an idea starting to form in her mind. She thought about it. Lizzie was beautiful, clever, witty and funny. She was also caring, if the fondness aunt Rebekah talked about her was proof. She was everything Hope would admire in someone and half of what she wished to be herself. She bit her lip. Her family would approve of it, of course, she reasoned. Her aunt would be thrilled to finally get what she had been setting up for years and her parents would combust in happiness about Hope finally abiding by their wishes.

Lizzie’s family would be happy too. Penelope would kiss the floor Hope walked on and Lady Caroline, the ultimate matchmaker that she was, would finally rest knowing that her job had been done and she had excelled, no less.

Hope tilted her head then. She would enjoy it, of course. She would enjoy Lizzie’s laugh and the way she made people pale in embarrassment. She would enjoy spending time with her and talking about everything. She would enjoy kissing her too; doing a lot more then kissing, Hope thought as she remembered Lizzie reciting the diary for her.

She knew Lizzie would be a good mother too; Rebekah’s kids loved her and Hope had seen Lizzie with her nephews once or twice and Lizzie loved them.

Hope shook her head laughing. She couldn’t believe that she would actually do this. She grinned when she thought of how happy Lizzie would be next to Hope; a person that would never try to clip her wings. Hope knew that Lizzie also wouldn’t try to change anything in Hope; even if they didn’t know enough about each other just yet, Hope was sure of it.

Hope nodded, determination taking over her. She would propose to Lizzie Saltzman.

* * *

**_The very next day after the Ball at Park House, Lizzie, that had spent the whole night awake replaying every interaction with Lady Mikaelson, wasn’t a bit fatigued. Rather, she was excited about the diary._ **

“Miss Saltzman.” The butler said taking Lizzie’s attention from the diary she was reading. “Mr. Greasley is here to see you.” Lizzie almost grunted but then closed the diary and the dictionary, that had arrived first thing in the morning like Hope had promised and put them both under the decorative pillow of her drawing room.

“See him in, please.” Lizzie said when she was finished and a few seconds later MG entered the room with the biggest smile. Lizzie felt her own smile widening despite his interruption of her read.

“Lizzie, my dear friend. I couldn’t believe my ears this morning.” MG said sitting in the couch in front of her. Lizzie looked at her chaperone that was sitting at the end of the room, next to the window, needling, and rolled her eyes. She pretended that she wasn’t listening but Lizzie knew she used to listen to everything Lizzie said just to talk to Caroline.

“What did you hear?” Lizzie asked in a whisper. She hoped it was gossip about someone. Lizzie had lost count of how many times she or MG had appeared at each other’s houses uttering those same words. It usually had to do with people eloping to get married or a pair caught up alone in a compromising position. It was almost always juicy enough to make Lizzie’s day a little bit brighter.

“The biggest catch of the season is said to finally be courting someone.” He said pointedly and Lizzie frowned. The biggest catch of the season? That would be Hope Mikaelson but she wasn’t courting anyone or else Lizzie would’ve kn—

“Oh.” Lizzie said when she realized what this was about.

“You didn’t tell me Lady Mikaelson was courting you!” MG accused and Lizzie groaned.

“She isn’t.” Lizzie said but MG only gave her a suspicious look.

“I don’t believe you. Not after that whole waltz yesterday and the fact that you left the ball because you apparently was feeling short of breath.” MG said and Lizzie grunted.

“That was the excuse my mother gave?” Lizzie asked embarrassed. She was really short of breath but when she had asked her mother if she they could leave the ball because she wasn’t feeling well, she thought that her mother would say that she was tired or catching a cold, for God’s sake.

“Yes, I mean, not that it was a surprise. Everyone was also short of breath after watching you and Lady Mikaelson waltzing.”

“She isn’t courting me, I promise.” Lizzie said looking away. “I’m merely doing a favor for her.” Lizzie explained making MG widen his eyes and look alarmed at Lizzie’s chaperone before looking back at her.

“A favor?” He whispered and Lizzie laughed then.

“Oh God, Milton. It’s not a sexual favor if you must know.” Lizzie rolled her eyes and then smirked at his embarrassment. He was shifting on his place and looking away.

“I didn’t think it was.” He said politely clearing his throat. After his embarrassment wore off, he smiled and looked back at Lizzie. “If you marry her, everyone will envy you. Lord Rafael, that had been trying to get her for years; poor Landon, that swoons every time he shares the same room with her; Lord Ethan with his elaborated actions and even his sister Miss Machado, that has tried to get Hope in a compromising position before. They all have been trying to get her for years and none succeeded.”

“Isn’t Miss Machado engaged already?” Lizzie frowned. “She wouldn’t be jealous at all.”

“Yeah, but she’s engaged to Lady Alyssa Chang and we all know how that one is. There’s even a rumor that she killed her parents to inherit early.” MG said making Lizzie snort.

“That can’t be true,” Lizzie said. “She was seven when her parents died. She’s just one of those tragic souls that like to yell to the four corners of the Earth that they will never fall in love. That seems to be the fashion these days.” Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“I blame it on them being Heirs. That goes up your head, you know. They can do whatever they want.” He rolled his eyes and Lizzie nodded. This had been the topic of most of their talks; how Heirs were allowed anything they wanted. “We always have to wait for them to propose to us.”

“You don’t.” Lizzie arched her eyebrows. “Miss Hawkins isn’t an Heir so you could just propose to her and stop whining about being in love.”

“Hey, I don’t whine.” He said regally. “And perhaps if you were as polite and collected as me, you would’ve gotten as many proposals as I have.” He said making Lizzie throw a pillow at him. Lizzie’s chaperone cleared her throat in a sign for her to behave.

“You mean, my mother would’ve gotten as much proposals as yours had.” Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Because they don’t propose to us, you know. They propose to our parents.”

“Tradition, Lizzie.” MG shook his head. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter. Neither my mother nor I will be getting more proposals.” He shrugged making Lizzie pause.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I finally accepted one of them.” He said casually as if that wasn’t the biggest new Lizzie had heard the whole year.

“NO!” Lizzie shouted startling her chaperone that had been distracted. Lizzie gave her an apologetically look.

“Kym asked for my hand.” He said smugly and Lizzie started to laugh happily. _Her best friend was going to marry._ She stood up to go hug him but then she stopped.

“Wait. When did she propose to you?” Lizzie frowned. “I just saw you last night and you still had that longing look directed at her.”

“She came to my house today morning. She brought me picture books because she knew that I loved them.” He flushed then. “She didn’t think that it’s childish that I love them. She proposed to me in front of my mother, father and her brother. I love her.” MG sighed contently.

“I know you do.” Lizzie finally hugged him. “When is the announcement?”

“Tomorrow at the Hawkins Ball. Kaleb will announce since he’s the host.”

“And is Lord Kaleb good with that? I thought he had previously said that he would flay your ass if you as much as breathed near his sister.”

“One, your mother will kill you if she hears you saying _that word_ and two, Kym told him that he had two options: accept that or she would elope with me. Can you believe it? She would elope with me.” He sighed again and this time Lizzie sighed with him.

“That’s very romantic.” She said. They stood there giggling like they used to until Lizzie’s mom entered the room and as was expected of people of lower or no title, MG stood up to greet Lady Caroline. “Mom, you will not believe the news.” Lizzie started but Caroline only gave her a look.

“That Milton is to be married? Of course I will.” Caroline said smirking at her daughter’s frown. “Congratulations, Milton.” Caroline said hugging him.

“If I may ask, how do you know about it, Lady Caroline?” MG asked also frowning. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“I’m a mother and mothers always know.” She said giving another look at Lizzie. “Always.” She said again and somehow Lizzie felt like Caroline knew everything that she and Hope had been doing. She blushed and her mother smiled. “Lizzie, your sister requires your assistance today.” Her mom said and Lizzie frowned.

“For what?” She grunted. She loved her sister and she would be pleased to assist her with anything but Lizzie needed to talk to Hope Mikaelson. She had been considering the ramifications of sending Hope a letter but she had dropped the idea when she thought about the possibility of the letter ending up delivered to any other Mikaelson by mistake. Lizzie had also thought about the likelihood of her finding Hope at her aunt’s house if she went there since Hope had said that she visited her aunt most Wednesdays but Lizzie had brushed away this idea because Lady Rebekah would never let Lizzie see the end of her teasing about Lizzie going there just for Hope. People would comment too and the last thing she needed was for the whole town to be talking about Lizzie going to visit Lady Rebekah on a Wednesday.

“Something about needing help with the twins. I would’ve expected that she would ask me since I’m a mother,” Caroline gave Lizzie Josie’s letter that the messenger had just brought, “but she requested you.” Lizzie nodded.

“MG can walk me there, yes?” Lizzie said looking at MG and he nodded. Caroline agreed and after leaving her house, her maid following her at a respectable distance, Lizzie looked at MG. “I need your help.” She said and he grunted.

“I don’t like the look on your face.”

“I need you to send a message to Lady Mikaelson.” Lizzie asked and he snorted.

“No, thank you. I just got engaged. I’m not interested in being caught in a scandal.” He said and Lizzie looked at him with a pleading face.

“I really need to talk to her. It’s an urgent matter.” Lizzie tried as they approached Josie’s house. She lived pretty near Lizzie’s house so the walk was fast.

“Sorry, Lizzie. Not jeopardizing my marriage for you as much as I love you.” He said making Lizzie sigh. “Ask Lady Penelope. She and Hope went to school together and I believe they’re still friends.” He frowned.

“As if I would ever ask Penelope for that. She would most likely think that I’m catching feelings for Lady Mikaelson.”

“And you’re not?” MG asked as they stopped by Josie’s house. Lizzie gave him a look.

“Thank you for nothing.” She said and he smirked.

“You didn’t deny it.” He said turning around and leaving. Lizzie then entered Josie’s house when the butler opened the door and left both her hat and gloves with him, something her mother always complained about but that Lizzie kept doing anyway because she would not wear gloves even in her sister’s house. It was only family anyway, it was not like Lizzie would cause gasps for it. She remembered Hope’s ungloved hands when they danced in the Ball just last night. Lizzie had wished, for just a moment, that she had also been without her gloves so she could feel the touch of Hope’s skin on hers. She felt herself shivering and shook her head. She should drop this train of thought before it worsened.

“What are you doing standing out there talking to yourself, Lizzie? Get into the damn room.” Lizzie heard Penelope saying from the visiting room and Lizzie gave her a look from the place she had been, as Penelope had gently put, _standing talking to yourself._

“I was telling myself that today wasn’t the day I would become a murderer even if you seemed really killable.” Lizzie hissed entering the room. Penelope smirked.

“Always nice to see that you remain the same.” Penelope said rolling her eyes.

“Stop this the two of you.” Josie said from the couch where she was holding one of her twins that was fussing trying to escape her mom’s lap to come to Lizzie. When he finally managed that, Lizzie opened her arms and picked him up.

“Now, aren’t you the cutest?” She said tickling him but his big brother wasn’t satisfied.

“You told me I was the cutest!” The eldest said making Lizzie smile. He was a little devil and Lizzie hated to admit but he was her personal favorite.

“Did I? I must be forgetting it.” Lizzie joked kneeling and hugging him.

“I am the cutest. Look at my green eyes and my smile.” He said charming and Lizzie bit her tongue not to laugh. “And my first word was Liz, aunt Liz. I’m the cutest.” He said trying to dodge his younger brother’s attempt to kiss him.

“Hey, your first word was mama, young boy.” Penelope said giving her child a stern look that served her nothing since all her children knew they had her wrapped around their little finger.

“Wait, where’s the other twin?” Lizzie frowned when she noticed one child was missing.

“Dear Lady Mikaelson offered to hold him.” Her sister answered making Lizzie jump from her kneeled position and spot Hope by the window. Lizzie had not seen her and now she was embarrassed.

“Hello, Lady Mikaelson.” Lizzie blurted out smoothing her dress and putting the toddler back on the floor. “I—I didn’t know you were here.” Lizzie made a small bow.

“It’s okay. You were excited to see your nephews.” Hope said, stiff as she held the other twin. It would be funny if it weren’t for the fact that Lizzie’s whole body was tingling. Hope glanced at the small boy she was holding uncomfortably and then at Lizzie and Lizzie giggled.

“You didn’t offer to hold him, did you?” Lizzie laughed when Hope shook her head slightly. “Let me get him.” Lizzie smiled walking to Hope to pick up the baby. He was only two years old but he had already more composure than Lizzie had gathered in her twenty-two years of life. Even though Hope was holding him weirdly, he remained well-behaved; a blatant difference from his other two brothers. Lizzie had always thought that this one was all Josie. When Hope transferred the child to Lizzie’s arms, their hands touched and Lizzie stilled looking at the place of contact as if she had been hit by a lightning. She pulled her hand fast and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“No matter.” Hope said also clearing her throat. Lizzie needed a distraction so she looked at her sister.

“Mother said you sent for me to assist you with the twins.” Lizzie started and Josie nodded.

“She was lying. We called you here because Lady Mikaelson wants to talk to you.” Penelope interrupted. Lizzie frowned and then looked at Hope, that looked very uncomfortable.

“I didn’t warn mother because we know how she can be at the prospect of a suitor.” Josie said pointedly and Lizzie snorted. She remembered quite well how their mother had plotted to get Josie and Penelope together after they first met.

“Oh, thank you.” Lizzie said.

“We’ll leave you to it.” Josie smiled softly at Lizzie and then gave Hope a look that Lizzie didn’t understand. “I’ll leave the door half open since your maid is not here.” Josie announced. Lizzie’s maid always left to the servant’s quarters when Lizzie visited her sister. After colleting her children and dragging a smirking Penelope out of the room, Hope and Lizzie were left alone.

“I—” Hope started but Lizzie cut her to it.

“I know why you’re here.” Lizzie said excited. Hope was curious about the diary and since she couldn’t call in Lizzie’s house or else people would say she was courting Lizzie, she came to Lizzie’s sister’s house.

“I don’t really think you—” Hope started but Lizzie’s mind was too fast to let her finish.

“I’m almost at the end of the diary. Barely forty pages to the end. You have no idea what I found out.” Lizzie said sitting on the couch and waiting or Hope to join her. The proximity caused Lizzie’s skin to have goosebumps but she ignored it in favor of her exciting news.

“That’s amazing, Lizzie, but—”

“She and the queen kept being lovers. Our writer’s husband died when he turned twenty-six due to a fever leaving her widowed at the age of twenty-three. Their daughter was only four. The queen then tried to marry her; she loved our writer profoundly but her advisors did not allow her to marry. The queen’s advisors told her that she wasn’t from an influent family and that the queen would weaken alliances if she decided to marry even after she had denied the proposals after the death of the queen’s husband.” Lizzie looked at Hope then and sighed. “Our writer wrote pages and pages of poems to make the queen feel better but it didn’t help. The queen said that there wasn’t a point in being a queen and never getting to do what she wanted. She was married off by her father when she was only fourteen and had her first child at sixteen. Everything she ever did was for the throne and when she asked something for the first time, they denied her.”

“That’s terrible.” Hope exclaimed and Lizzie nodded. “Why didn’t she impose her wishes? She was the queen after all.”

“She was the queen but her advisors said that if she married, she could cause anger in the people and they could reject the queen’s Heir when he ascended to the throne.”

“And as much as she loved her, she couldn’t risk having people angry at her son.” Hope continued and Lizzie sighed sadly. As much History as she had read about it, she had never heard this part of it. The books usually said straightforward facts about their lives.

“Our writer, used to being forced to do things she didn’t want to by her family since she was little, didn’t let this trouble get in the way of their bond. They kept being lovers for years. Her daughter grew up, got married. The queen’s children grew up and also got married. And they still were together.” Lizzie smiled. “Our writer didn’t just like to write. She was quite a skillful artist. She drew games for them to play, she drew pictures of their children, of the gifts they gave each other; she drew everything that made her happy.”

“What else?” Hope asked then, curiosity laced in her voice and Lizzie smirked. She knew Hope would be excited by this part.

“She drew the long Lost Crown Jewels.” Lizzie said and Hope’s eyes widened.

“I’ve noticed it when I found the book and I also noticed that the picture looks like made by the same artist that painted one of the paints in Mikaelson Residence but I had no way of knowing who since it’s anonymous.”

“It was her.” Lizzie said making Hope virtually jump with excitement. Lizzie laughed.

“How did it end up in my house?” Hope frowned and Lizzie bit her lip.

“I do have my suspicions but I’ll keep them to myself until I finish the book. I’m almost at the end.” Lizzie said. “But that’s not the most shocking part.” Lizzie grinned widely then.

“What?” Hope asked and Lizzie noticed that she was looking at Lizzie with a weird face that Lizzie attributed to her astonishment over the news.

“I think she was the one that stole the jewels. Not stole but hid it in one of their treasure hunts.” Lizzie exclaimed to a distracted Hope. “Over the years, they became more elaborated to the point that they took months in one single search. They were really obsessed with the clues and the pursuit of the prize. Our writer would sometimes write down an idea to one of her hunts in the diary. They would use codes, ciphers, different languages, images and even color coding to pass clues. They became masters in hiding things in plain sight and making it difficult to be noticed.” Lizzie was babbling now, she knew. But that’s what happened when she got excited and all this mystery left her more excited than she ever remembered being. It wasn’t much for the mystery in itself, although Lizzie had to admit that by the way things were going she wouldn’t be able to rest until she came the end of this story. It was more because it was something that only she and Hope shared; a secret. They would whisper and have almost a code between themselves just like the writer and the queen. “Isn’t it amazing? After years of no one having a clue about where the Jewels could have been or who could have stolen it, we may have the first real hint about what happened and we’re the only ones in the whole world that know it.” Lizzie finished in a whisper, her eyes meeting Hope’s, and noticing that, in her excitement, she had came extremely close to Hope, almost as close as they were yesterday. Lizzie breathed in when she noticed Hope’s eyes on her lips. “I—”

“I think—” Hope started, her eyes leaving Lizzie’s mouth to look at Lizzie’s eyes for just a second before going back to her lips.

“Wh—what do you think?” Lizzie asked because the whole world seemed to have stopped. She couldn’t breathe, too scared that her breath would snap them out of this moment.

“That I’m going to kiss you.” Hope said and although Lizzie’s entire body appeared to burst into flames, she smirked.

“I actually think that _I’m_ gonna kiss you.” Lizzie said pushing back every insecure and scared thought that crossed her mind and holding Hope’s head and bringing her lips to Lizzie’s. Lizzie had no idea what to do; she had never kissed anyone before; so as soon as their lips touched and the actual kissing should begin, Lizzie’s confidence vanished and she started to panic until she heard Hope’s chuckling. “What are you laughing at?” Lizzie whispered as she started to pull away. Hope held her in place.

“You. You’re trying to lead the kiss.” Hope laughed making Lizzie blush.

“That’s very unpolite for you to point out.” Lizzie said crossing her arms and looking away.

“Kiss me again.” Hope smirked then and Lizzie looked away trying not to run as if the devil was pursuing her. Lizzie Saltzman did not run.

“No.” Lizzie said making Hope laugh again. “I really don’t see why this is all so entertaining for you.”

“Kiss me again,” Hope said, then, “or should I kiss you?” Hope asked shifting in a manner that their lips were almost touching again. “Can I?” Hope asked and Lizzie nodded because who could say no when everything within her screamed to say yes? And Hope kissed her then. Differently from Lizzie, Hope actually took her time. She kissed a corner of Lizzie’s lip and then her cheek. Lizzie gasped when Hope’s lips found a sensitive spot next to Lizzie’s ear. Then Hope’s kisses trailed a path back to Lizzie’s mouth. She was being patient with Lizzie, she noticed. Because she knew that Lizzie hated the feeling of not knowing something so Hope was giving her time. When Lizzie finally relaxed and Hope’s hand, ungloved, touched Lizzie’s neck, a noise coming from outside the room startled them and they jumped out of the couch and to as far as they could physically get in that room.

Lizzie looked at Hope, wide eyes and hammering heart, and did the one thing Lizzie Saltzman never did: she ran away.

* * *

This was not how Hope had planned her day to be, she thought as she watched Lizzie running away.

She had woken up in a pretty good mood. Her mind had set on the idea of proposing to Lizzie and she was extremely satisfied with it. The first thing she did was send Lizzie the dictionary she had promised; she wouldn’t start their relationship already failing her future wife. After a very pleasant morning with her aunt; Hope didn’t tell aunt Rebekah about proposing because she wanted to propose first; she went back to her house, dressed herself in her best clothes and went to Penelope’s house. She wanted to talk about her idea with Josie before going to Lizzie’s house later to announce her plan to court her.

Hope was positively delighted with this new development in her life. Until she talked to Josie.

“You want to propose to my sister, don’t you?” Josie asked as soon as Hope called in her house and the butler let her in. Hope looked at Penelope but the woman only shrugged.

“I—How do you know that?” Hope asked stunned. She hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t even sat down on the couch when Josie said that.

“Well, you weren’t exactly subtle about being in love with her last night at the ball.” Josie giggled making Hope frown.

“I’m not in love with her.” Hope offered shaking her head slightly. Josie’s face changed and she tilted her head at Hope.

“Not in love with her.” Josie repeated. Hope nodded.

“I like her a lot,” Hope said swallowing anxiously at Josie’s look. Hope looked away uncomfortable. “She’s amazing and funny and clever and I think that she likes me too.” Hope offered but Josie said nothing. Hope looked at Penelope but Penelope looked at her with a pity face.

“So you don’t love her.”

“I don’t do _In Love_.” Hope said carefully. It wasn’t exactly the truth but it wasn’t a lie either.

“But here you are asking for my sister’s hand in marriage.” Josie raised an imperious eyebrow much like her sister. That made Hope feel slightly sorry for Penelope; Josie seemed to be scary when she wanted to be and right now she was trying it on Hope.

“I am not asking you. And that is not the reason that I’m here.” Hope said frowning then. “I’m going to ask for her hand in marriage but I’ll ask _her_ and not her family. She should be the one to give me permission to court her. As for why I’m here, I merely wanted to ask you if you could arrange a way for the two of us to be together privately so I can properly propose to her.” Hope finished, flinching at Penelope’s disappointed look. Josie gave Hope a look that made Hope feel the worst of dejects and then called in her butler. She wrote down something on a paper and asked the butler to have one of the messengers delivering it to her sister. Hope frowned. “I don’t think the talk went as well as I intended.” She sighed. She didn’t mean to start this union with a disagreement between her and Lizzie’s twin.

“I can imagine.” Josie said. “I sent a letter for Lizzie to come here. You can go on with your plan.” Josie said making Hope frown.

“I suppose you did not like our recent interaction so if I may ask, why have you called her here? I don’t suppose you approve of it.” Hope asked honestly.

“Oh, you’re incorrect. I do approve of it.” Josie smiled then making Hope’s head spin. What had just happened?

“Why?”

“First, as you've pointed out, it’s my sister’s right to accept or deny your courtship and second, it will be entertaining.”

“What will be entertaining?” Hope asked and Josie shook her head and looked at Penelope amused before looking back at Hope.

“I assume that not for you, of course. But me? I’ll love to watch it.” Hope was about to ask what in Hell Josie should love to watch when her children walked into the room disturbing the silence. Josie picked up one of the smaller kids and walked to Hope. “Would you be so kind to hold him please?” She asked throwing that child on Hope’s arms. Hope wasn’t too good with babies. She had small cousins, yes, but she only liked them after they stopped pissing themselves and could form whole sentences. The small black haired child Hope was holding didn’t seem to be able to do either. He smiled at her and Hope walked to the window to look outside waiting for Lizzie.

The whole exchange with Josie had unsettled her. Hope did like Lizzie and she was sure she would love Lizzie one day. Hope just didn’t do all the passion thing. Her parents, uncle and aunts have all told her about how falling in love felt like and when Hope was little, she used to dream about it. Hope practically grew up in a fairytale with perfect love stories. Eventually, Hope’s dreams of finding such love were replaced by fear that she wouldn’t find it. That’s why she wasn’t looking so eagerly; she’d rather not get her expectation high just to be disappointed. That was also why she’d chosen Lizzie Saltzman. She was safe. Hope liked her enough to expect that she would love her someday and have a chance at a scrap of what her parents had. But she wasn’t in love with Lizzie Saltzman, Hope thought shaking her head. She would surely know if she was.

When Lizzie arrived, Hope was again hit by that strange sensation of fluttering. When their hands touched when Lizzie was picking up the baby, Hope’s hand almost held Lizzie’s to prolong the contact. And then Lizzie started talking. God, she talked an awful lot. Hope barely heard something about the diary here and the queen and the writer being lovers there and managed to be curious about it sometimes. All the time Lizzie was talking, Hope’s only thought was to kiss her. Hope had felt this need yesterday in the ball and now, sitting alone with Lizzie in a room, she felt that need almost unbearable.

“I—” Lizzie gasped when she noticed Hope’s eyes on her lips.

“I think—” Hope started, her mind barely able to form complete sentences.

“Wh—what do you think?” Lizzie whispered, barely a breath, and Hope felt it warm on her face. 

“That I’m going to kiss you.” Hope whispered back expecting Lizzie to blush but she actually smirked. 

“I actually think that _I’m_ gonna kiss you.” Lizzie said bringing Hope’s head closer to her and kissing her. Hope was too surprised to act. Lizzie kissed her clumsily and a second later, when Lizzie probably realized that she didn’t know what to do, Hope felt her pulling back. Hope chuckled. “What are you laughing at?” She heard Lizzie whispering.

“You. You’re trying to lead the kiss.” Hope said making Lizzie blush. Hope should have expected Lizzie to do that,to be honest. Hope smiled fondly at her. 

“That’s very unpolite for you to point out.” Lizzie said crossing her arms and looking away. Hope bit her lip because she knew Lizzie was feeling uneasy. In all fairness, Hope was feeling it too. Hope had kissed a few people before but none of them made her feel like this. None of them made her feel like she wanted more; like she wanted everything.

“Kiss me again.” Hope asked; probably begged.

“No.” Lizzie said making Hope laugh slightly; she loved how Lizzie was so stubborn. “I really don’t see why this is all so entertaining for you.” Hope didn’t see it either because the last thing her body felt was the need to laugh, but she was starting to realize that Lizzie made her body answer in unexpected and entirely new ways.

“Kiss me again,” Hope asked, “or should I kiss you?” Hope came closer to Lizzie again and their lips were almost touching once more. “Can I?” She pleaded and Lizzie must’ve felt the same need that was consuming Hope because she nodded and a second later Hope was kissing her again. She did it softly and sweetly like a first kiss ought to be. She kissed Lizzie’s face and tried to hold herself when she felt Lizzie’s skin reacting to her kisses with goosebumps. When their lips finally met again and Hope’s tongue tasted Lizzie’s lips for the first time, a thump somewhere outside surprised them and they broke the kiss. Hope’s mind only started to process things normally again when she was in the opposite side of the room from Lizzie. Lizzie was looking at her with wide eyes, her hand touching her lips as if she didn’t quite believe what had just happened. Hope mimicked her action and when she was about to say something, Lizzie shook her head, turned around and ran away.

And as Hope watched her leave, an odd ache assaulted her chest. Hope put her hand to her chest as if she could stop it just by the motion of putting her hand over it. It didn’t work. After she had stood there long enough for her to collect herself, she left the house barely muttering a goodbye to the hosts. Hope went home and threw herself on bed. Her day had started pretty organized and now was ending with Hope’s mind so all over the place that she was left with no idea of what was happening.

* * *

**_Later that day, Lizzie is sitting on her bed, perched against her pillows. The Italian diary is at her_ ** **_side, but she has not picked it up._ **

She has relived the kiss in her mind approximately forty two times.

In fact, she is reliving it right now:

Lizzie would have liked to think that she would be the sort of woman who could kiss with aplomb, then carry on for the rest of the day as if nothing had happened. She'd have liked to think that when the time came to treat a lover with fiery passion that would bring them to their knees, she would not only succeed at it but excel.

And in her imagination, she did all of that and more.

Which was not, she had admitted to herself, for what had to be the forty-third time since Hope’s lips had touched hers, how she had behaved.

Lizzie shook her head. She couldn't let it this way. She was Lizzie Saltzman. Surely that had to mean something. One kiss could not turn her into a senseless nothing.

And besides, it wasn't the kiss. The kiss hadn't bothered her. The kiss had, in fact, been rather nice. And, to be honest, long overdue. One would think, in her world, among her society, that she would have taken pride in her untouched, never-been-kissed status. After all, the mere hint of impropriety was enough to ruin a one’s reputation.

But one did not reach the age of two-and-twenty without feeling the littlest bit rejected that no one had thus far attempted a kiss at her. And no one had. Lizzie wasn't asking to be ravished, for heaven's sake, but no one had even leaned in, or dropped a heavy gaze to her lips, as if they were thinking about it.

Not until earlier today. Not until Hope Mikaelson.

Lizzie’s first instinct had been to jump with surprise when Hope told her she wanted to kiss her. For all of the gossips about Hope’s rakish ways, she hadn't shown any interest in extending her reputation as a rogue in Lizzie’s direction.

But then…

Well, good heavens, she still didn't know how it had all come about. One moment she was talking Hope’s ears off with what she had discovered of the diary and then the next Hope was staring at Lizzie’s lips with an intensity that had made her shiver. She'd looked possessed, consumed.

And then Lizzie, always trying to have the upper hand, had kissed her and embarrassed herself with her lack of tactic. Hope had laughed at her, Lizzie thought grunting. What on earth was she expected to do? Wield her tongue like a sword? Ravage Hope as if Lizzie actually knew the whole meaning of that? For all Lizzie’s progressive and shocking words, she actually knew quite little about how this all worked. She knew the basics, of course. She had made her sister tell her everything that happened after the marriage and it seemed quite pleasing to Lizzie but when Hope touched her, Lizzie forgot all the basics and her mind went blank.

It was just…it was just…

Lizzie chewed on her lip, horrified by how close to tears she was. It was just that she'd thought her first kiss would be just a kiss. She'd thought that the person in question would emerge from the encounter impressed and pleased by her performance and Lizzie would smirk at them with her usual confidence.

What had happened however, was an aberration. Hope had looked at her as if Lizzie had grown an extra head and Lizzie had ran away like a scared child.

"There’s no reason to worry," she whispered, her words floating through the empty room. "It was just slightly different from how you’ve pictured.”

But she knew, even as she tried so hard to lie to herself about it, that it had been more than a kiss.

Much, much more.

At least that was how it had been for her. She closed her eyes in agony. Dear God, while she'd been lying on her bed thinking and thinking, then rethinking and thinking again, Hope was probably sleeping like a baby not slightly bothered by the same thoughts assaulting Lizzie’s mind.

How was she going to face Hope? And she was going to have to face her. She was translating the diary for her, for heaven's sake. If she tried to avoid her, it would seem so obvious. And the last thing she wanted to do was allow Hope to see how she had made Lizzie feel. There were quite a few things in life Lizzie needed a great deal more than pride, but she figured that as long as dignity was still an option, she might as well hang on to it.

And she would not let Hope Mikaelson see that Lizzie was falling in love with her.

In the meantime…

She picked up the diary. She could distract herself with it. She hadn't done any work on it since she came back from her sister’s house. There was only forty pages left. Lizzie fingered the small bookmark she'd used to hold her place and opened the book. Lizzie managed to focus her attention solely on the diary for the rest of the evening. When she was about to stop for today and prepare herself to sleep, the next passage caught Lizzie’s interest.

“I found the perfect spot,” Lizzie translated, “No one will ever…” Lizzie frowned. She didn't know the rest of the sentence, so she put some dashes down on her paper to indicate an untranslated phrase and moved on. “They don't suspect of me or that I am intelligent enough to have done it.” she read. “Neither they suspect of her, because why would they?”

"Oh, my goodness," Lizzie exclaimed, sitting up straight. She flipped the page of the diary, reading it as quickly as she could, her attempts at a written translation all but forgotten.

"Oh you," she said with admiration. "You sly foxes. You two stole the Jewels."

* * *

**_The next day, an instant before Hope knocks on Lizzie’s door._ **

Hope sucked in a deep breath, as she seemed to being doing quite frequently lately, summoning the courage to wrap her fingers around the heavy brass knocker that sat on the front door of Lizzie’s house. Then Hope tried not to feel completely disgusted with herself for feeling like she needed the courage in the first place. And it wasn't really courage she needed. For God's sake, she wasn't afraid. It was…well, no, it wasn't quite dread. It was—

Hope groaned. Frankly, she didn’t want to deal with Lizzie Saltzman at a moment like this. Then Hope rolled her eyes, thoroughly impatient with herself. This shouldn't be difficult; Lizzie had kissed her back. Kissed her first if Hope’s mind was reliable. Hope shouldn't feel strained. Hell, it wasn't as if Hope had never kissed someone before and didn’t know quite how to act after.

Except…

Except she'd never kissed a someone like Lizzie, one who A) hadn't been kissed before and B) had every reason to be angry at Hope for kissing her when she wasn’t even courting her. Not to mention C) was Lizzie.

Because one really couldn't discount the magnitude of that third fact alone.

If there was one thing Hope had learned in this past week, it was that Lizzie was quite unlike any other woman she'd ever known. Hope had been intending on proposing to Lizzie but her expression when they broke the kiss had not been terribly inviting. If anything, she had looked horrified. Which had made Hope feel like a fool.

Hope let out a sigh. There was no putting it off any longer. She lifted her hand, intending to grasp the knocker—

And then quite nearly lost her balance when the door flew open.

"For heaven's sake," Lizzie said, looking at her through impatient eyes, "were you ever going to knock?"

"Were you watching me?" Hope asked trying not to sound embarrassed.

"Of course I was. My bedroom is right above. I can see everyone." Why, Hope wondered, did this not surprise her?

"And I did send you a note," she added. She stood aside, motioning for Hope to come in. "In despite of recent behavior," she continued, "you do seem to possess manners enough not to refuse a direct written request."

"Er…yes," Hope said. It was all she could seem to think of, faced as she was by the whirlwind of energy and activity standing across from her. Lizzie seemed charged.

"We need to talk," Lizzie said.

"Of course," Hope murmured and then cleared her throat. "I must apologize for k— "

"Not about that," she said dismissively, "although…" She looked Hope up and down, her expression somewhere between thoughtful and upset. "You certainly should apologize."

"Yes, of course, I— "

"But that's not why I summoned you," she cut in.

"Do you wish for me to apologize or not?" Hope asked perhaps a little strained. Lizzie didn’t seem half as fretted about what had happened as Hope was.

Lizzie glanced up and down the hall, placing one finger to her lips with a soft, "Shhh."

"Have I suddenly been transported into a volume of Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron?" Hope wondered joking because she didn’t know what else to do. Lizzie scowled at her, a look that Hope was coming to realize was quintessentially her. It was a frown, yes, but with a hint— no, make that three hints— of impatience. It was the look of a woman who had spent her life waiting for people to keep up with her.

"In here," she said, motioning toward an open doorway.

"As you wish," Hope murmured still confused and she followed Lizzie into what turned out to be a visiting room.

"I don't want to be overheard," Lizzie said closing the door. Totally. Hope swallowed at the thought of it. If her mother caught them locked inside a room unchaperoned, they would be married by the end of the month. The idea didn’t bother Hope since she was already intending to wed Lizzie and the help of Lady Caroline catching them alone and obligating them to marry would prevent Lizzie from saying no. Then Hope flinched; she was a terrible person. She wanted Lizzie to want to marry her.

"I need to tell you about the diary," she said, her eyes alight with excitement.

Hope blinked with surprise. "You're not going to return it, then?"

"Of course not. You don't think I— " She stopped, and Hope noticed that her fingers were twisting spirals in the soft green fabric of her skirt. For some reason this pleased Hope. She was rather relieved that Lizzie was not completely unaffected as she appeared to be by the kiss. "I kept the translation," she said, "I rather like reading the diary, and I see no reason to deprive myself of an enjoyable challenge simply because we have behaved recklessly. And besides"— she leaned forward, her bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement— "it just got interesting."

"What did you find?" Hope asked curiously.

Lizzie picked up the diary, which had been sitting on a nearby end table. "Our writer and the queen," she said, her entire bearing radiating excitement, "had a secret." She opened the book— she'd marked a page with an elegant little bookmark— and held it out, pointing with her index finger to a sentence in the middle of the page as she said, "They hid the Jewels." She looked up, unable to contain an exhilarated grin. "Do you know what that means?"

Hope shook her head. "I mean, yes, I suspected that much but I'm afraid they didn’t say where, did they?" Hope found herself looking at the page, even though she couldn't possibly understand the words.

"They did.” Lizzie said excited making Hope’s eye widen.

“I beg your pardon.” She said making Lizzie’s beautiful smile widen.

"This whole book is a riddle; a treasure map to find it. The clues are all scattered across the pages. You can only start to understand it once you’ve finished it.” Lizzie said.

"What did they do with the Jewels?"

"She hid them." Lizzie was practically bouncing off the sofa now.

“For the queen to find?” Hope frowned and Lizzie shook her head.

“I have no idea but I assume that yes. Who else could’ve found?” Finally, some of Lizzie’s enthusiasm began to seep into Hope.

"What are you saying then?" Hope asked.

"I'm saying," she said, as if she was repeating something she'd uttered five times already, in every possible permutation, "that those jewels are probably still there. For us to find!" She stopped short, her eyes meeting Hope's with an almost disconcerting suddenness. "Unless you already know about them. Did someone of your family find them?"

"No," Hope said thoughtfully. "I don't think so. At least, not that I've ever been told. And since we’re Mikaelsons, if we had found it, we would surely know."

"You see? They’re still in there then," for a moment her eyes assumed an almost piratical zeal, "or at least there is a very good chance that they are. We have to go get them."

"What— _We_?" Oh, no. But Lizzie was too lost in her own excitement to have noticed Hope’s emphasis.

"Just think, Hope," she said, clearly now perfectly comfortable with the use of her given name, "this could be amazing for us."

"And how is that?"

"Firstly, for the pleasure of finding something a bunch of fools have been trying to find for years, decades." Lizzie said. “Secondly, it could provide me a title.”

“I wasn’t aware that you were on the look out for one.” Hope said bitterly and Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“One always is on the lookout for one, may it be through marriage or service to the crown.” Lizzie clapped her hands together, then set them both palms down on her lap. She looked at Hope expectantly. "Well, then," she said, once it was apparent that Hope had no further comment, "when shall we go?"

"Go?" Hope echoed.

"To look for the Jewels," she said impatiently. "Haven't you been listening to anything I've said?"

Hope suddenly had a terrifying vision of what it must be like inside her mind. She was dressed in black, clearly, and — good God— almost certainly in scandalous clothing as well.

She'd probably insist upon lowering herself out her bedroom window on knotted sheets, too.

"We are not going anywhere," Hope said firmly. “I don’t even know where do you plan on going.”

"To Mikaelson Residence. Of course we are," she said, "we must get those jewels.”

"Why Mikaelson Residence?" Hope asked frowning.

“I’ve told you our writer had a daughter, haven’t I?” Lizzie asked with a glint of excitement in her eyes. “Her daughter’s name was Esther.” Lizzie looked at Hope expectantly. When Hope was still staring at her blankly, Lizzie rolled her eyes. “And she married a Mikaelson.”

“My grandmother!” Hope said stunned and Lizzie nodded.

“She was our writer’s daughter.” Lizzie said softly. I believe before her mother died, she left both this diary and the Jewels for her daughter to find since the queen didn’t."

“Why the queen didn’t?” Hope asked and Lizzie shook her head.

“I suppose that we might learn the reason once we find the Jewels.”

“I don’t like this.”

"You're not leaving me behind." Lizzie said. It was a statement, not a question. Not that Hope would have expected otherwise from her.

"If I attempt to break you into Mikaelson Residence without causing a scandal," Hope said, "and that is a rather large if, I will have to do so in the dead of night."

"Well, of course."

Good God, did Lizzie never cease talking? Hope paused, waiting to make sure that she was done. Finally, with a great show of exaggerated patience, she finished with, "I am not dragging you around town at midnight to my house. Forget, for one moment, about the danger, of which I assure you there is plenty at night in our town. If we were caught, I would be required to marry you, and I can only assume your desire for that outcome is minimal." Hope said casually trying to see if Lizzie had been giving a thought to this as much as Hope had.

Lizzie revealed nothing. When she opened her mouth again, Lizzie said, "Well, you won't have to drag me. I can walk myself there."

Hope thought her head might explode. "Good God, woman, have you been listening to anything I've said?"

"Of course I have. You simply aren't thinking clearly," she leaned forward, lifting one of her brows in an almost disconcertingly confident manner, "you need me."

“Like I need a headache.” Hope murmured.

"I will pretend I didn't hear that," she said, jabbing her index finger in Hope’s direction in a most unladylike manner. "You seem to forget that of the two of us, I am the only one who reads Italian. And I don't see how you are going find the Jewels without my aid. My knowledge of the language isn't perfect. There are some words that could be open to interpretation, and I might need to see the actual room before I can tell exactly what she was talking about." Hope’s eyes narrowed. "It's the truth, I swear!" She quickly grabbed the book, flipping a page, then another, then going back to the original. "It's right here, see? _Armadio_. It could mean cabinet. Or it could mean wardrobe. Or— " She stopped, swallowing. Hope knew that she hated to admit to a flaw. "If you must know," she said, unable to keep her irritation out of her voice, "I'm not precisely certain what it means.”

"Why don't you look it up in the Italian dictionary?" Hope asked suspiciously.

"It gives imprecise understanding. Like I said, I should need to see the place to be sure about it.” She waited for Hope to speak. She held silent for what seemed an interminably long time before finally saying, "If what you say is correct, and the jewels are still hidden then surely they will remain in place until we can get an accurate translation from a professional."

"You could wait that long?" Lizzie asked in disbelief. Hope couldn’t, actually, but what was she supposed to do? Take Lizzie to her house to treasure hunt after some long lost jewels hidden more than fifty years ago? "You could actually wait?"

"Why not?"

"Because they're there. Because— " She cut herself off, unable to do anything other than stare at Hope as if she were mad. Hope felt quite unsettled by that look. Good heavens, Hope knew that if it were up to her, they'd be searching across Mikaelson Residence that night.

"Think about this," Lizzie said, leaning forward. "I would never forgive you if someone found it before us." She stole a glance at Hope. Hope thought about it. Her parents would kill her if they arrived early form their trip and caught them there. Lizzie waited quietly while Hope thought about what to do. Hope watched as she gripped her hands together as if she'd die if Hope left her behind. Either die or kill Hope. Hope knew she was nervous and Hope wondered if she was thinking about their kiss; that spending more time together alone could lead to another one.

Hope watched as a thought seemed to cross Lizzie’s mind and she did not like at all Lizzie’s face at it.

"What did you just think?" Hope asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

Hope leaned forward, her blue eyes sharp and unwavering.

"What did you just think?"

"What makes you think I thought something?"

"I could see it in your face."

She cocked her head to the side. "You know me that well?"

"Frightening though it may seem, apparently I do." Hope said and Lizzie nodded.

"You need me." She tried again, softly this time.

Hope’s gaze fell to the carpet for a moment before turning back to her face. "If I take you— "

"Oh, thank you!" Lizzie exclaimed, just barely resisting the urge to jump to her feet.

"I said if I take you," she said, her voice uncommonly stern. Lizzie silenced herself immediately, looking at her with an almost dutiful expression. Hope almost snorted at that. Lizzie did what Lizzie wanted to do. Hope sighed. She was starting to noticed that Hope herself did what Lizzie wanted too. "If I take you," she repeated, her eyes boring into hers, "I expect you to follow my orders."

"Of course." Lizzie said quickly. Too quickly.

"We will proceed as I see fit." Hope continued and Lizzie hesitated.

"Lizzie!"

"Of course," she said quickly, "but if I have a good idea…"

"Lizzie."

"I’ll listen to you.” Lizzie nodded and Hope shook her head not quite believing what she was about to do.

"Very well," Hope said with a sigh. "We will go tomorrow night." Lizzie’s eyes widened with surprise and that amazed look in her eyes went right for Hope’s chest. Hope knew that although she had been insisting, she was half expecting Hope not to take her. Hope very much liked this feeling of surprising Lizzie. She also liked the wide grin Lizzie was giving her now.

“Oh, I can hardly wait.” Lizzie started. “What should I wear? I think I have black pants and a coat.” She continued making Hope grunt. When Lizzie had exhausted all bad ideas possible and made Hope question for the millionth time the idea of taking her, Lizzie smiled at Hope. “Thank you.” She said and kissed her cheek leaving Hope in the visiting room with a stupidly happy face. She sighed; Lizzie could have asked Hope to break into the royal palace and Hope would have agreed just the same. Hope shook her head. She left Lizzie’s house and went directly to hers to rest before tomorrow. She had a sinking feeling that it would be an exhaustive day; a very exhaustive one indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe comments...?


	3. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to finish but work is tiring me beyong reason hahahah 
> 
> I strayed at lot from the book here so this is me hoping that it worked out nicely.
> 
> I really hope you all like it as much I did. 
> 
> I hope you guys leave a comment.
> 
> I love you and enjoy it <3
> 
> I wanted to talk a lot like i use to do here and spill my heart out to you but I am so sleepy right now that i can barely process me typing this HAHAHA 
> 
> ANYWAY thank you all for reading my fics and always indulging me in my craziness, be it with multi season fics longers than real life books or small sweet oneshots like the one i wrote a few days ago.  
> THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

**_The_** **_next day at night. Our heroine, who has spent much of her life in reckless abandon of rules, is discovering the rather odd sensation of being a sensible member of society._**

There were a number of reasons, Hope decided as she sneaked around to the back of Lizzie’s house, why she should question her sanity.

One: It was after midnight.

Two: They would be quite alone.

Three: They were going to Mikaelson’s Residence to:

Four: Treasure hunt.

As far as bad ideas went, this stole the prize. But no, somehow Lizzie had talked her into it, and so here she was, against all better judgment, ready to lead a proper young miss out of her house, into the night, and quite possibly into danger.

Not to mention that if anyone caught wind of this, Lizzie’s family would have Hope standing up before a priest before she could catch her breath, and they'd be shackled to each other for life.

Hope shivered, a thrill of excitement coursing through her. The thought of Lizzie Saltzman as her lifelong companion…Hope stopped for a moment, blinking in surprise. Well, it wasn't that she hadn’t thought of it, actually, she had already chosen the ring to propose to Lizzie as soon as the opportunity presented itself since the last time Hope tried Lizzie had blasted her with information, but at the same time, it did leave Hope feeling very, very uneasy.

Hope knew Lizzie thought she'd talked her into doing this, and maybe she had contributed in some degree to Hope’s decision of actively looking for the jewels, but the truth was, Hope was enjoying it. It had been a long time since she last enjoyed something quite as much as this. When Hope first noticed that picture of the jewels and gave the diary for Lizzie to translate, she hadn’t thought that it would be such a pleasurable hunt guided by the genius mind of a woman in love. For some reason, the fact that the lady writer and the queen loved each other so much made Hope feel somewhat odd. Love wasn’t foreign to her, growing up with a family like hers, but to read, or rather listen to Lizzie’s descriptions of that love… Hope yearned it. 

Hope had been a little startled by Lizzie’s frank description of the nature of the Diarist and the Queen’s relationship. Forget for a moment that such matters were not considered polite conversation (Hope wouldn't have expected Lizzie to adhere to such normal notions of propriety in any case). But Hope had almost tripped over and hit her head when Lizzie, in a whispered warm voice in the middle of a crowded ballroom, had recited those words. That moment caused Hope to stay awake every single night since then. 

It was disconcerting, that.

Hope shook her head to clear her mind from such improper thoughts and edged along the back of Lizzie’s house to the servants' entrance. They had agreed to meet there at precisely half one, and Hope had no doubt that Lizzie would be ready and waiting for her, dressed all in black, as she had said.

And sure enough, there she was, holding the back door an inch ajar, peeking out through the crack.

"You're right on time," she said, slipping outside.

Hope stared at her in disbelief. She'd taken her words to heart and was dressed head to toe in unrelenting black. Except that no skirt swirled about her feet. Instead, she wore pants and a waistcoat. Hope had known she was going to do this; Lizzie had as much. She'd known it, and yet still, she couldn't contain her surprise.

"It seemed more sensible than a dress," Lizzie said, correctly interpreting Hope’s silence, "and besides, I don't own anything in pure black. Haven't ever been in mourning, thank goodness."

Hope just stared. She didn't know where Lizzie had acquired her costume; it had probably belonged to Penelope since Lizzie wasn’t allowed to wear those. It hugged her body in a most scandalous fashion, outlining her in a manner Hope would rather not have seen. Hope didn't need that. She knew Lizzie was tall but didn't want to know that her legs were long and sensual when they weren't hidden beneath the silky folds of a skirt.

It was bad enough that Hope had kissed her without a promise of courtship or the guarantee of a proposal. Hope didn't need _to want_ to do it again. The next time she kissed Lizzie, they would be engaged.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Hope muttered, shaking her head. Good God, she sounded like a stick, like all those sensible friends she and Penelope had dragged into mischief as a youth.

Lizzie looked at her with accusing eyes. "You cannot back out now."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said with a sigh. The woman would probably chase Hope down with a gun if she did. "Come along, let's be off before someone catches us right here."

She nodded, then followed Hope’s lead down the street. Mikaelson’s Residence was located less than a quarter mile away, and so Hope had plotted a route for them to travel on foot, sticking, whenever they could, to the quiet side streets where they'd be less likely to be spotted by a member of the ton, traveling home via carriage from a party.

"How did you convince Your Graces to leave the house?" Lizzie whispered as they approached the corner.

"I'm sorry?" Hope peered around the corner, making sure the coast was clear.

"I imagine your parents won’t be home," she said. "I was surprised that you scheduled our visit so soon.” _Our visit_ , as if this was nothing more than a trip to the museum. Hope glared at Lizzie, that smirked annoyingly enough for Hope to know that she had guessed what Hope was thinking. Hope rolled her eyes.

“My parents are out of town. They’ll only be back in a few days.”

"Oh," Lizzie said, “Lucky us.”

“Don’t count on it just yet. My uncle Elijah is always in the house and we’ll have to be quiet so the butler won’t hear us,” she said and Lizzie nodded. Hope glanced at her, “Do you have an idea as to where to start our search?”

“I suppose your house has secret passages,” Lizzie said and Hope nodded, “so we should probably look in them. It will make it less likely that we’re found by one of the servants or your uncle.”

“It will also be a lot harder to search. The secret passages are secret, as the name hints, and they’re also badly lit up. There’s also quite a few of them so I imagine it will be difficult to find the right one.”

“We could start from where your cousin found the diary. It must have a secret clue there.” She shrugged and Hope paused for a moment, annoyed that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind before. Lizzie glanced at her amused.

“I told you that you needed me,” she said confidently. They kept walking and a few minutes later, they arrived at the servants’ door of Mikaelson’s Residence.

“I paid one of the servants to leave it unlocked.” Hope said at Lizzie’s raised eyebrow when Hope opened the door. When they were inside, Hope looked at Lizzie expectantly.

"The diary mentioned a room decorated in shades of green. I wasn't entirely certain of the meaning. It could have been a drawing room. Or maybe a study. But she did mention a small, round window." She said and Hope thought about it, a memory from when she was little making her widen her eyes.

"The Duchess’s office," she decided. "It's on the second floor, right off the bedroom. It used to be green but my mom redecorated it when I was little. It’s where they found the diary."

"Of course!" Lizzie was whispering, but her excitement still rang through. "That would make perfect sense. I suppose her daughter told her about the secret passages and she could have hidden it there."

"We'll go up the main stairs," Hope said quietly. "We'll be less likely to be heard.” She nodded her agreement, and together they crept through the house. It was quiet, just as Hope would have expected with her parents away. When they were out, the servants retired early since Uncle Elijah never really warned if he was going to be here.

"This way," Hope mouthed to Lizzie and she followed her lead. A minute later they were creeping up the stairs. Hope pulled her to the side; the steps had always creaked in the center, and Hope’s parents never cared to fix it because they said that it added charm to the house. They left it unfixed, though, because they used it to catch young Hope trying to sneak out or in before she learned the right spots to step on.

Once in the upstairs hall, Hope led Lizzie to the Duchess's office. It was a funny spacious room, rectangular with one window and three doors, one to the hall, one to the Duchess's bedroom, and the last to a small dressing room that was more frequently used for storage since there was a much more comfortable dressing area directly off the bedchamber.

Hope motioned Lizzie inside, then stepped in behind her, closing the door carefully, her hand tight on the doorknob as it turned. It shut without a click and Hope let out a breath. Then she led Lizzie to the small dressing room that was used as storage; there was where the secret passage was hidden. Hope’s hands traced the wall with her fingers trained to find the small, almost imperceptive, hole. When she did it, she pulled a hair clip from her pocket and stuck in it. As soon as she applied pressure enough, it made a clicking noise and a door, invisible to those that didn’t know what to look for, unlocked. Hope heard Lizzie gasping amazed and she looked at her with a smirk.

“Impressed now?” She whispered but Lizzie must have been too surprised with the door’s mechanism that she didn’t have a snarky remark back. Hope quite enjoyed making Lizzie speechless, she decided as she—

“Impressed but not by you, Mikaelson. Or are you the designer of this passageway?” Lizzie said making Hope glare at her. Lizzie gave her a sweet smile and passed Hope, opening the door and entering the corridor. Hope used the candle she stole when they were coming upstairs to light the old candle by the entrance and just as she expected, a few seconds later, the other candles started to light up too caused by some ingenious mechanism built by the architect of the house.

"Tell me exactly what she wrote," Hope said, closing the secret door behind them and pointing to a small room where the kids had found the diary.

"She said it was in the _armadio_ ," Lizzie said back. "Which is probably a cabinet. Or maybe a set of drawers. Or— " Her eyes fell on a tall but narrow cabinet. It was triangular in shape, tucked into one of the corners. The wood was a dark, rich hue, and it stood on three spindly legs, leaving about two feet of space under its base. "This is it," Lizzie whispered excitedly. "It has to be."

She was across the small room before Hope even had a chance to move, and by the time she joined her, she had one of the drawers open and was searching through.

"Empty," she said, frowning. She knelt and pulled open the bottom drawer. Also empty. She looked up at Hope and said, "Do you think the kids could have taken more than the diary?"

"I have no idea, but I don’t think so. Marcella would have told me if only for the pleasure of snitching on Nik to me." Hope said and gave the cabinet door a gentle tug and pulled it open. Also empty.

Lizzie stood, planting her hands on her hips as she regarded the cabinet. "I can't imagine what else…" Her words trailed off as she ran her fingers over the decorative carvings near the top edge. "There's something about this piece," Lizzie murmured. "It looks rather Mediterranean, don't you think?"

Hope looked up at her. "It does," she said slowly, coming to her feet.

"Do you think it could have been a gift to the Duchess from her mother, our writer? Something she brought from her home country, Italy?" Lizzie asked, her head tilting slightly to the side as she eyed the cabinet assessingly.

"It would stand to reason that it is. My grandmother’s style is all over the house and this piece doesn’t fit it.” Hope answered and Lizzie’s eyes glowed with excitement.

“As it would stand to reason that our writer, of all people, would love a secret compartment," She said clapping her hands. Hope’s eyes widened.

"Stand back," she instructed, wrapping her arms around it so that she could pull it away from the wall. It was heavy, though, much heavier than it looked with its small size, and she was only able to move it a few inches, just far enough so that she could run her hand along the back.

"Do you feel anything?" Lizzie whispered. Hope shook her head. She couldn't reach very far in, so she dropped to her knees and tried feeling the back panel from underneath. "Anything there?" Lizzie asked impatiently and Hope shook her head again.

"Nothing. I just need to— " She froze as her fingers ran across a small, rectangular outcropping of wood.

"What is it?" Lizzie asked, trying to peer around the back.

"I'm not certain," she answered, stretching her arm a half inch farther. "It's a knob of some sort, maybe a lever."

"Can you move it?"

"I'm trying," Hope nearly gasped. The knob was almost out of her reach, and she had to contort and twist just to catch it between her fingers. The lower front edge of the cabinet was digging painfully into her upper arm, and her head was twisted awkwardly to the side, her cheek pressing up against the cabinet door.

All in all, not the most graceful of positions.

"What if I do this?" Lizzie wedged herself next to the cabinet and slid her arm around back. Her fingers found the knob easily. Hope immediately let go and pulled her arm out from under the cabinet.

"Don't worry," Lizzie said, somewhat sympathetically, "You couldn't have reached your arm back here. You have short arms.” Ans she looked so damn smug that she did reach it because of a lucky shot of anatomy that gave her longer arms that Hope rolled her eyes.

"I don't care which of us can reach the knob," she said.

"You don't? Oh," Lizzie shrugged. "Well, I would."

"I know," Hope hissed.

"Not that it really matters, of course, but— "

"Do you feel anything?" she cut in refusing to get into a banter with Lizzie about _this_.

She shook her head. "It doesn't seem to be moving. I've tried it up and down, and side to side."

"Push it in."

"That doesn't do it, either. Unless I— " Her breath caught.

"What?" Hope asked urgently.

She looked at her, her eyes shining, even in the dim light of the candles. "It twisted. And I felt something click."

"Is there a drawer? Can you pull it out?" Hope asked and Lizzie shook her head, her mouth scrunching into an expression of concentration as she moved her hand along the back panel of the cabinet. Then she looked down. A small piece of paper lay on the floor. Hope and Lizzie stared at it for a while.

"Was this here before?" Lizzie asked. But the words were mere reflex; she knew it hadn't been. Hope knew it too so she dropped to her knees beside Lizzie.

"What is it?"

"This," Lizzie said, unfolding the small piece of paper with trembling hands. "I think it fell from somewhere when I twisted the knob." Still on hands and knees, she moved about two feet so that the paper was lit up by the candlelight. Hope crouched beside her, noticing Lizzie’s body warm and overwhelmingly close as she smoothed the brittle sheet open.

"What does it say?" Hope asked curiously.

"I'm not sure." Lizzie blinked, her breath dancing across Hope’s neck as she leaned in trying to get more light on it. “The handwriting is clearly from our writer, but the paper has been folded and refolded several times, making it difficult to read, “ Lizzie said, “But it's in Italian so I think it might be another clue."

Hope shook her head. "Trust her to turn this into a pirate’s worthy hunt."

"She was very crafty." Lizzie said admiringly and Hope nodded running her hand along the under-side of the cabinet as if looking for something. "There it is," she said appreciatively after finding what she wanted.

"What?" Lizzie asked, moving to Hope. Hope took her hand and guided it to a spot toward the back. A piece of wood seemed to have rotated slightly, just enough to allow a scrap of paper to slide through and float to the ground.

"Do you feel it?" she murmured and Lizzie nodded. “It’s where the paper slid from.” Hope kept holding Lizzie’s hand in place and she noticed Lizzie’s little gasp. Hope cleared her throat and let her hand go and stood up almost crawling herself away from Lizzie. Hope felt enveloped, swallowed whole by being in such a small place with her.

And dear God, it was just an innocent touch.

When Lizzie also had stood up, Hope motioned for her to move aside as she pushed the cabinet back against the wall.

"Did you find anything useful in the note?" Hope asked trying to ignore how hot the room seemed to be getting by the second. She glanced at the candles and imagined that they were half responsible for the overheat. The other half was now looking at Hope with huge eyes.

"The note? Oh, the note," she asked and then shook her head as if she had admonished herself. "Not yet. I can hardly read a thing here. I’ll read it when we’re back in the office with more light.” She said and Hope nodded leading her out of the room and into the narrow corridor. Lizzie stopped and Hope raised an eyebrow. “Where does this passage end?” Lizzie asked pointing at the contrary direction from where they were going.

“My bedchambers.” She said, smirking wickedly when Lizzie blushed and coughed. “Do you want to venture there?” She asked, not really knowing what devil had taken hold of her. Lizzie, always trying to hold on to control, looked her up and down as she passed Hope and started to walk back in the direction of the Duchess’s bedchambers. Then she said,

“I don’t think we’ll have something as interesting as this hunt to do there, so no.” And Hope could feel the smirk on her face. Smirk that only diminished a little when she had to stop by the secret door and wait for Hope to open it for her. Hope felt the wall and again used a hair clip to press it open. They walked out of the dressing room and into the Duchess’s office and Lizzie, absentmindedly, sat on the Duchess’s chair and started to read the paper. Hope stilled at that vision. Lizzie, on Hope’s mom’s chair. Hope exhaled quietly. It felt right.

Hope had never given it too much thought. She knew that she would marry and that, unless she married a royal, there wouldn’t be someone with a higher title than hers so when she married, her spouse would take upon the tasks of Hope’s mom. That they would one day, in the very far future, move into the Duke and Duchess’s bedchambers as a couple. But Hope had never given much thought to how she would feel about it. Now, looking at Lizzie’s concentrated face as she read the note, Hope felt something clicking inside of her. This, marrying Lizzie, was right. It felt right in her bones. She was so distracted with her thoughts that she almost didn’t hear footsteps outside the office. When she did notice it, she looked at Lizzie alarmed.

“Hide under the desk.” She whispered and Lizzie immediately did as told. A heartbeat later, Uncle Elijah entered the office and stopped surprised by the door.

“Niece,” he said smiling. “I didn’t expect to find you here.” Hope tried to look innocent as she leaned on the desk.

“I was just coming to mom’s office to look for,” —Hope looked around praying for divine intervention when her eyes fell on the Mikaelson stamp— “this,” she picked it up and held it up stupidly for her uncle to see. “I have no idea where’s mine and I need to write a letter.” Hope finished praying that her uncle wouldn’t press any further but she wasn’t that lucky, of course. He looked around the room as if he could sense her lie and then back at her.

“Addressed to Miss Saltzman, I presume.” He said making Hope choke and accidentally knock over some papers on her mom’s desk. Her uncle stared at her amused.

“Of course not.” Hope said trying to gather the papers and then giving up and looking at her uncle with a pleading face. _Let’s not talk about it,_ her eyes begged. _We most definitely will,_ his answered.

“Rebekah said that the two of you have been all _whispers and blushing and short breaths and scandalous waltzes together_ ,” he said lightly, looking over at one of the bookshelves searching for a book, probably the reason he was here. He didn’t look at Hope when he said, amusement to his tone, “we have bets on how long it will take for you to propose.” Hope grunted. She did not want to be having this conversation, especially not with Lizzie hiding under a desk listening to it all.

“I—” Hope started, looking for words to get her out of this as he turned back to her, a book in hand. He stared at her and the amused look turned almost diabolical.

“I expect that you’ll do the honorable thing and marry her if you two, by any chance, have gotten yourselves physically involved.” And Hope almost bashed her head to the wall at the gasp coming from under the desk. She coughed loudly to distract him from that sound or maybe because she was really dying of embarrassment; she wasn’t quite so sure. Her uncle’s gaze shifted to the desk for a fraction of second before looking back at Hope, a smirk on his lips. “I’ll leave you to your _affairs_ , niece.” He said winking at her before turning around and leaving the office whistling happily. Hope brought both her hands to her face and groaned.

"Let's go." She said to Lizzie without looking her in the eyes when she heard Lizzie crawling from under the desk.

“But the note—” Lizzie started but Hope cut her.

“We almost got caught, Lizzie.” Hope whispered and as much as she wanted to marry Lizzie, she wanted to do this right and starting their relationship because they’d been caught up in a compromising position wouldn’t do. Lizzie nodded, seeming to understand the gravity of the situation, and followed Hope in silence, creeping through the house until they reached the servants’ stairs. They descended it in silence and when they were outside, Hope took Lizzie’s hand and pulled her as they ran through the streets.

By the time they reached Lizzie’s house and Hope looked back at Lizzie to wish her farewell, Lizzie started to laugh, “I can't breathe,” she said between laughs, so loud that Hope looked around afraid that anyone would listen. She looked at Lizzie with stern eyes.

"You're a madwoman." Hope said and Lizzie nodded, still grinning like a fool.

"I think so."

Hope turned on her, hands on hips. "Have you no sense? We could have been caught back there. That was my uncle, and trust me, he would have hauled us into a carriage to the nearest church before we even knew what was happening.”

"I know," Lizzie said, trying to appear suitably solemn.

She failed.

Miserably.

Hope shook her head. The woman had no sense of danger. Finally, she gave up and stopped laughing. Hope thought that she had started to reevaluate her amusement at such potential disastrous situation, but Lizzie only smirked, "But wasn't it fun?"

For a moment Hope didn't think she would respond. For a moment it seemed all she was capable of was a stupefied stare. But then, “Fun?"

Lizzie nodded. "A little bit, at least." She pressed her lips together in that damned smile that told Hope she was doing her best to keep from bursting out with laughter.

"You're mad," Hope said shaking her head, "You are stark, raving mad," she continued. "Everyone told me, but I didn't quite believe— "

"Someone told you I was mad?" Lizzie cut in.

"Eccentric."

"Oh." She pursed her lips together. "Well, that's true, I suppose."

"Far too much work for any sane person to take on."

"Is that what they say?" she asked and Hope noticed the slight change in her voice. A hint of insecurity.

"All that and more," Hope confirmed because she wouldn’t be one to lie. Hope watched as Lizzie thought about that for a moment, then just shrugged.

"Well, talk good, talk bad, let them talk, right?" She said and Hope again shook her head. Lizzie looked at Hope then, a glint of something entirely new to Hope in her eyes, "Tell me the truth. Weren't you just a tiny bit excited? Once the fear of discovery had worn off and you knew we got out unscathed? Wasn't it," she asked, her words coming out on a pleased sigh, "just a little bit wonderful?"

Hope looked up at her then, and maybe it was the moonlight, or maybe just that glint of _something new_ in Lizzie’s eyes. Maybe that was the reason Hope smiled softly.

"A little bit," She gave in. "But just a little bit."

Lizzie smiled then; that wide smile that was much like a punch to Hope’s stomach. "I knew you weren't as dull as you appeared."

"Dull?" Hope said disgustedly. No one had ever called her dull. “What did you call me?” She tried but Lizzie had already opened the door and was now entering the servants’ entrance. She only stopped for a second before closing the door to whisper to Hope.

“Good night, Hope.”

* * *

**_The next morning._ **

**_Lizzie is still in an excellent mood. Unfortunately, her mother commented upon this so many times at breakfast that Lizzie was finally forced to flee and barricade herself in her bedchamber._ **

**_Lady Caroline is an exceptionally canny woman, after all, and if anyone is going to guess that Lizzie is falling in love, it would be her._ **

Lizzie hummed to herself as she sat at the small desk in her bedchamber, tapping her fingers on the wood. She had translated and retranslated the note they'd found the night before, and she still wasn't satisfied with her results, but even that could not dampen her spirits.

She'd been a little disappointed, of course, that they had not found the Jewels the night before, but the note in the cabinet seemed to indicate that the jewels might still be theirs for the taking. At the very least, no one else had reached any success with the trail of clues left behind.

Lizzie was never happier than when she had a task, a goal, some sort of quest. She loved the challenge of solving a puzzle, analyzing a clue. And this Hunt had turned what would surely have been a dull and ordinary Social Season into the most exciting time of Lizzie’s life.

She looked down at the note, twisting her mouth to the side as she forced her mind back to the task at hand. Her translation was still only about seventy percent complete, in Lizzie’s optimistic estimation, but she rather thought she'd managed enough of a translation to justify another attempt at searching for it. The next clue— or the actual prize, if they were lucky— was almost certainly in the library.

"In a book, I imagine," she murmured, then turning her attention once again to the note.

Surely there had to be something in the cryptic words to indicate which book she had chosen as her hiding spot. Something scientific, Lizzie was fairly sure. The writer had underlined part of her note, which led Lizzie to think that perhaps she was referring to a book title, since it didn't seem to make sense in context that she'd have been underlining for emphasis. And the part she'd underlined had mentioned optical illusion and "things that disappear," which sounded a bit like physics, not that Lizzie had ever studied it. But Penelope had attended university, and she'd overheard enough of her talk to Josie about what she studied there to have a vague knowledge of, if not the subject, at least what the subject meant.

Still, she wasn't nearly as certain as she'd have liked about her translation, or what it meant. Maybe if she went to Hope with what she'd translated thus far, she could read something into it that Lizzie didn't see. After all, Hope was more familiar with her house and its contents than Lizzie was. She might know of an odd or interesting book, something unique or out of the ordinary.

Hope.

She smiled to herself, a loopy, silly grin that she would have died before allowing anyone else to see. Something had happened the night before. Something special.

Something important.

Hope liked her. She really liked her. She had smiled in that incredulous and amazed way of hers at Lizzie. Lizzie had shivered at it. She'd actually forgotten how to speak. And she'd wondered if Hope might kiss her again, which was why Lizzie turned around and entered the servants’ door. If Hope had kissed her there, Lizzie didn’t trust herself so much as to not invite Hope in. To her bedchamber. _To her bed_.

 _Maybe soon_ , Lizzie thought giggling.

She had no doubt that she still drove Hope a little bit mad. But Lizzie seemed to drive everyone a little bit mad, so she decided not to attach too much importance to that. And to add to it, Hope seemed to like that Lizzie drove her crazy which was craziness in itself but Lizzie wouldn’t question it.

_Hope liked her._

Lizzie turned her head to look at the clock. It was already past noon. Lizzie had expected that Hope would have called on her this afternoon to see how she was faring with the note. It wasn’t past three yet, but technically it was already getting late, and—

Her ears perked up. Was that someone at the door? Her room was at the front of the house, so she could generally hear when someone was entering or exiting. Lizzie got up and went to the window, peeking out from behind the curtains to see if she could see anyone on the front step.

Nothing.

She went to the door and opened it just enough to listen.

Nothing.

She stepped into the hall, her heart pounding with anticipation. Truly, there was no reason to be nervous, but she hadn't been able to stop thinking about Hope, and the Jewels, and how their skins had touched last night and she imagined how it would feel to have her touching Lizzie in other places, and—

"Eh, Lizzie, what're you doing?" She nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Sorry," said her sister, not sounding sorry at all. She was standing behind her, or rather she had been, before Lizzie had whirled around in surprise. Josie looked slightly disheveled, her reddish face glowing and her hair with some loose clips. Lizzie raised her eyebrow, her surprise wearing off.

“I didn’t even hear you getting here but you’re already blushed enough that I know that you were being ravished by Penelope.” She said making Josie’s cheeks assume a more intense color.

“You know mom would most likely send you to a convent if she heard all the naughty things you say,” Josie said composed, then, “I just arrived with Pen twenty minutes ago. Mom was fussing over the kids so Pen and I decided to—” Josie cleared her throat and brushed away an invisible dust particle from her dress.

“To profane our holy house?” Lizzie cut in, realizing a second too late that it had been a trap. Josie smirked at her.

“Just like you and Lady Mikaelson were doing at _my holy house_ where I put my boys to sleep?” She asked and Lizzie grunted.

"Don't," she said, looking around as if their mom were listening. She pulled Josie inside her bedroom and closed the door. “Nothing happened between Hope and I.” She said but it was weak enough that her sister looked her up and down.

“So why are you blushing, whispering and pulling me inside your room?” Josie asked and Lizzie closed her eyes. Her sister had always known Lizzie and Lizzie had never been able to lie to her so she sighed.

“It was just a kiss,” Lie, “and it was long due, anyway. You had your first kiss at seventeen.” Lizzie shrugged and Josie looked her squarely in the eyes.

“I also married the recipient of my first kiss.” She said making Lizzie blush. Then she looked past Lizzie and Lizzie followed her gaze, her heart dropping when she noticed the diary and the note. She put her hands on Josie’s shoulders and led her outside her bedroom.

“And since I never told mom that you lost your maidenhood before the wedding and that you’re the one that enlightened me on the technicalities of the marital bedding, you won’t tell her that I kissed Hope either.” Lizzie whispered as they left to the hallway and she closed the door behind her. “Now let me go downstairs to see my nephews.” Lizzie finished walking to the stairs and being followed by Josie.

“I just want you to be happy, Lizzie.” Came Jo’s sweet words when they were halfway down. Lizzie swallowed her unexpected urge to cry.

“I know.” She took Josie’s hand and squeezed once. “So trust me that I know what I’m doing.” She whispered and Josie nodded, a little smile on her lips.

“I trust you that you do and that soon enough you’ll show it to Mikaelson too.” She said and Lizzie smiled. When they entered the visiting room, Penelope was sitting by the window while Caroline indulged the kids in all kinds of sweet food. Josie gasped and Penelope’s looked at her apologetically.

“I tried but she can be intense.” She said but Josie only snorted and went to their mom to make her try to stop spoiling the kids. The kids were so into the candies that they didn’t pay attention to Lizzie so Lizzie, for some reason beyond her comprehension, went to sit by the window with Penelope. Penelope frowned when Lizzie glanced at her and Lizzie looked away embarrassed.

“How are you today, future Lady Lizzie Mikaelson?” Penelope said, annoyingly as always. Their relationship had always been one of playful banter and outwitting. Lizzie would never admit it but she loved how Penelope never tired of teasing her.

“I’m in love with Hope,” she said, to her total astonishment. And to Penelope’s, that looked at her as if she had asked for them to cuddle. Penelope swallowed and shifted awkwardly in place.

“I—that’s—” but she couldn’t form complete sentences so Lizzie looked away embarrassed, decided to never look at Penelope again. But after a few moments, Penelope tugged at the sleeve of her gown making Lizzie look back at her. When Lizzie did, she found a fond look in the other’s eyes and a small smile on her lips. “If it helps… I’m sure she’s in love with you too.” Then she cleared her throat and smirked, her usual annoying self back, "If there's anything I can do."

"Nothing," Lizzie said firmly, horrifying visions of Penelope’s meddling floating through her mind. "Absolutely nothing. Please." Caroline and Lady Rebekah were already trying hard enough.

“Okay but if you need—”

“I won’t,” Lizzie said making Penelope laugh.

“Ah, Lizzie, you’ll be a breath of fresh air in Hope’s life. You already are.” She said and Lizzie smiled then, grateful for these people that were her family. Even if they were insufferable most times. Lizzie was about to say something sassy to Penelope to make her roll her eyes when the butler entered the visiting room and bowed.

“Miss Saltzman, a visit for you.” He said making Lizzie’s heart try an escape through her mouth.

“Who?” She asked.

“Lady Mikaelson.” He said with a tint of a smile that Lizzie ignored totally. Butlers weren’t supposed to show any emotion; especially if said emotion was a response to the way that Lizzie almost jumped at him while asking _who_.

“See her in, please.” Lizzie said dignified and he bowed again before leaving the room.

“Try not no puke on my new boots.” Penelope said pointedly dragging her feet away from Lizzie, that only gave her a mortal glare. Josie chuckled at her wife’s joke and Lizzie directed that glare at her too. Caroline then direct a glare at Lizzie.

“Stop glaring, respectable nobles—” Caroline started and all three of them, Lizzie, Josie and Penelope, rolled their eyes and finished her sentence.

“ _Don’t glare or show the slight hint of irritation._ ” They said in unison laughing at Caroline’s _show of irritation_ at them. When Lizzie looked at the door, _she_ was there with a soft smile and a raised eyebrow.

“I suppose you’re talking about Miss Saltzman. She does have a tendency to glare.” Hope said making Penelope smirk and poke Lizzie’s rib. Lizzie pushed her hand away standing up and bowing to Hope.

“Lady Mikaelson, it’s a pleasure to have you here.” She said and Hope smiled. Then she looked at Caroline, Josie and Penelope, that had all just bowed respectfully.

“Lady Caroline, Lady Josie, Lady Penelope.” Hope nodded and then looked down at Lizzie’s nephew, the eldest mischievous one. “Lord Park.” Hope said making him giggle and almost melting Lizzie’s heart. Lizzie had to use all her strength of character not to swoon over Hope being adorable with the kids. Lizzie wanted to kick herself on the face for being so weak at Hope directing literally two words to the child. Then she looked back at Lizzie. “I brought you something.” She pulled a small box out of her pocket then and, with a small smirk, held it out for Lizzie.

“Oh,” Lizzie swallowed surprised that Hope would give her anything in front of Caroline, that would surely see it through the lens of a matchmaker. “Thank you. What is it?” Lizzie asked as she tried to find a way to open it to release the little jingling thing that seemed to be inside it when Lizzie wobbled it.

“A puzzle box. You have to find out the right combination of symbols to get it open. I thought that you’d like it.” Hope said with a glint of mischief in her eyes that was meant for Lizzie only. _A secret they shared_. Lizzie smiled at Hope and when Hope smiled back, she felt like all the air had been knocked out of her. Hope seemed to cause that a lot on Lizzie. “I found it in the nursery room at Mikaelson’s.” Hope explained when Lizzie turned her gaze back to the small wood-carved delicate box. Lizzie raised her eyebrows.

“What were you doing in the nursery? Are you thinking about filling it with babies?” Lizzie joked laughing but she regretted as soon as a light shade of pink tinted Hope’s cheeks.

“I—” Hope started and Caroline came to her help.

“Forgive my daughter, please, Lady Mikaelson. I find it remarkable that you’re considering kids,” Caroline went on. Not help then, “Elizabeth would love to provide kids soon too, right, Lizzie?” Her mother said making Lizzie roll her eyes.

“Yes, mother, I am a vessel ready to be used.” Lizzie said in that polite bland voice that young unmarried people like her should always use but that Lizzie only really used when she was mocking it. Her mother gasped at the same time that Lizzie heard a wheeze from the window where Penelope and Josie were sitting. Lizzie smiled placidly and Hope’s laugh, loud and amused, filled the room. When Hope finished laughing, she shook her head.

“You’re a delight, Lizzie.” She said, a few seconds later realizing that she had called Lizzie by her given name.

“Would you join us for a tea, Lady Mikaelson?” Josie asked before their mom decided to press on the matter of Hope’s intimacy with Lizzie’s name. Lizzie directed a thankful look at her sister.

"I would be delighted, Lady Josie." Hope said and sat on one of the armchairs, waiting for Lady Caroline, the hostess, to make her tea.

"Milk?" Lizzie’s mom asked and Hope nodded.

"Thank you," Hope replied. "And three sugars, if you please."

"Lizzie takes hers with no sugar," Penelope said, reaching for a piece of shortbread and smirking at Lizzie, “Bitter as her soul.”

"Why," Lizzie ground out, "would she care?"

"And how are you this afternoon?" Caroline directed at Hope after giving Lizzie a scolding look for her to stop bickering with Penelope.

“Great, thank you for asking.” Hope answered politely and Lizzie looked away to avoid meeting her eyes. “And I believe that it could become even greater.”

“And how is that?” Caroline asked and Hope looked over at Lizzie.

“I would like to take Miss Saltzman for a walk in the town square. I have found that we share many interests.” Hope said politely and Penelope snorted making Lizzie give her another glare that turned into a winning smile when Josie also gave Penelope a glare and Penelope frowned like a wounded puppy.

“Of course. Lizzie will love it, right, daughter?” Caroline said looking at Lizzie pointedly enough for Lizzie to know that she should go. Lizzie almost rolled her eyes.

“I would love to accompany you. Just let me go pick up my gloves and hat.” Lizzie said standing up and leaving to her bedchambers. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she did the very unladylike thing of running upstairs to pick up not only what she had said but also the diary and the note from last night. When Lizzie returned to the visiting room, Caroline was still speaking.

“…and we adore Lady Rebekah.” She finished whatever she was saying. Penelope turned to Lizzie then.

“Do you still read with her each Wednesday?" She asked. She damn knew Lizzie did and that it wasn’t Wednesday.

"Tuesday," Lizzie corrected.

"Oh, sorry, I was barely wondering if you two had _bumped into each other_ once or twice." And there was so much venom in her words that Lizzie blushed and then, to change the subject, she spoke the first thing that came to her mind.

“Lady Mikaelson, I understand that you are an accomplished swords-woman.” Hope eyed her curiously. _Where was she going with this?_ Hope was probably wondering. Lizzie was too.

"I like to fence, yes," she replied.

"I have always wanted to learn." Lizzie said, understanding a second later that she had set herself up for a trap.

"Good God," Penelope grunted.

"I would be quite good at it," Lizzie protested.

"I'm sure you would," her sister replied, "which is why you should never be allowed within thirty feet of a sword." She said making Lizzie gasp at the betrayal. She was supposed to help her.

"She's quite diabolical." Penelope added to Hope with a smirk.

"Yes, I'd noticed," Hope murmured. That was it. They were all against Lizzie! Lizzie almost pouted and crossed her arms like a small petulant child.

Penelope shrugged, "It's probably why we can't seem to get her married off."

"Penelope!" Lizzie shouted throwing a small cake at her.

"It's a compliment!" Penelope protested. "Haven't you waited your entire life for me to agree that you're smarter than any of the poor fools who have attempted to court you?"

"You might find it difficult to believe," Lizzie shot back, "but I haven't been going to bed each night thinking to myself— Oh, I do wish my sister-in-law would offer me something that passes for a compliment in her twisted mind."

Hope choked on her tea.

Penelope turned to Hope. "Do you see why I call her diabolical?"

"I refuse to comment," Hope said wisely and then stood making everyone stand up with her. She looked at Lizzie. “I believe you’re ready.” And Lizzie nodded.

“Yes.” Lizzie said following Hope to the door.

"Do you need a chaperone?” She heard her sister asking from behind her. Lizzie stopped.

“No, thank you. I’m taking my maid with me.” She said trying not to hiss. Her sister smirked and Lizzie turned around, took Hope’s arm and hauled her to the door, Lizzie’s maid following them. Lizzie heard her mom gasping as if she were having a heart attack at Lizzie’s lack of manners but Lizzie ignored it. When they were already outside and her maid was a few steps behind them, enough that they wouldn’t be overheard, Lizzie glanced at Hope. “I translated the note.”

“Oh, good.” Hope nodded excited. “Does it say where are the Jewels?”

“No,” Lizzie shook her head, “but it gives directions to the Mikaelson Library and a book. It’s another clue. She didn’t say the name of the book but she said that it was about illusion so I thought that it could be something scientific, physics perhaps,” she finished glancing at Hope’s thoughtful face.

“My library has thousands of books. You would have to be more specific. We have a whole section for science since my uncle Kol always liked to do experiments.” Hope said. Another piece of her family life. Lizzie had always been friends with Lady Rebekah, at least since Lizzie was eighteen and she had been presented to society and Lady R had seen in her something that she apparently liked because she took Lizzie under her wings; a lot of Lizzie’s shocking behavior had only been tolerated because Lizzie was under Lady Rebekah’s protection. But even with all those years of friendship with her, Lizzie didn’t know everything about the Mikaelsons. For some reason, Lizzie felt like she wanted to know more now. Maybe that’s why she looked at Hope and smiled.

“Tell me about your family.” Hope looked at her curious about the sudden change of subject, but then she smiled softly.

“They’re loud. If there’s a word to describe them, that would be it. They’re always on each other’s business and they have no fear of expressing their opinion to whoever poor soul they find,” Hope shook her head then and smirked at Lizzie, “You would fit right in.” She added making Lizzie’s heart hammer in her chest. The implication of that sentence…

“Why are you so much older than all of your cousins?” Lizzie asked trying to ignore the way Hope’s previous sentence had made her feel.

“Mom and dad weren’t in love when they got married. It was an arrangement between their families. They were too young and they had me right after. My uncles and aunts… they expected love out it so they waited long enough to find it. They would still be waiting if they hadn’t find the loves of their lives.” Hope smiled and Lizzie did too.

“Do your mom and dad love each other now?” Lizzie asked curious. She had seen Your Graces, Lord Niklaus and Lady Hayley, in quite a few balls and they seemed to like each other very much but Lizzie wanted Hope’s answer.

“They do. They’re so annoying about it,” Hope rolled her eyes but Lizzie saw her eyes glowing with love for her parents, “they want me to find what they have.” Hope finished and Lizzie didn’t expect her gaze to shift to Lizzie so directly, “Do your family expect you to marry for love?”

“Yes,” Lizzie laughed, “they’re pests and my mom seems to want to marry me to just about everyone that talks to me for more than five minutes but they would never want me to marry someone I don’t love.” Lizzie finished and Hope nodded.

“I do like to keep in mind that love can come later,” Hope said, almost as an afterthought, as if she were making sure Lizzie knew it. Lizzie nodded but she didn’t understand why Hope seemed to want to make sure Lizzie knew that. Hope was silent then and Lizzie was never good with silence so she brough back the matter of their search.

“I want to go to Mikaelson Residence again tonight.” Lizzie said and Hope stopped for just a second before resuming their pace.

“You’re sure? Last night we almost got caught,” Hope said slowly, “I don’t want us to be forced into a marriage, Lizzie,” Hope said carefully. Lizzie tried to ignore the pain the rushed into her heart at Hope’s words. Then Hope smiled softly at her, “If I were to marry you, I would do it the right way. The way you deserve.” Hope said, pink cheeks and a hopeful smile than made Lizzie’s whole world shift right under her feet.

And then Lizzie realized that some things did come in a flash. And there were some things one simply knew without possessing the ability to explain them. Because in that moment she knew that she was going to marry this woman.

No one else would do.

Hope Mikaelson knew what was important. She was funny, she was dry, she could be arrogantly mocking, but she knew what was important.

And Lizzie had never realized before just how important that was to _her_.

Her lips parted as she watched Hope. She wanted to say something, to do something. She'd finally realized just what it was she wanted in life, and it felt like she ought to leap in with both feet, work toward her goal and make sure she got it.

But she was frozen, speechless as she gazed at Hope. So, she did what she always did. She pulled a Lizzie Saltzman.

“I don’t want us to be forced either so we’ll just have to be extra careful,” Lizzie said trying to sound like the irreverent Lizzie Saltzman everyone knew her to be. Hope shook her head and rolled her eyes but that thing, that soft glint of a promise, was still there.

“Why today? You could wait for me to look over the library and try to find something,” Hope said deciding to let Lizzie change the subject and Lizzie gave her a look.

“As if I would let you search without me!” Lizzie said making Hope smirk.

“Its not like you have that much of a choice in the matter.” Hope shrugged and Lizzie stopped on her tracks.

“Don’t you threaten me, Mikaelson, you know me well enough to know that if you don’t take me, I will go by myself.” Lizzie said enjoying how Hope’s smirk dropped and she looked like she was sick.

“Oh God, I don’t doubt you.” Hope said. Then she sighed, “Tonight then.” Lizzie tried not to jump in excitement right here in the middle of the town square where the news of her new scandal would spread faster than disease.

“It’s better anyway,” Lizzie tried when Hope seemed to notice that Lizzie wanted to jump and she rolled her eyes, “with the ball at Mikaelson Residence in three days, tonight will be the last day we have to go search before the house is filled with people making arrangements day and night for the ball.” It was time for Hope to stop dead in her tracks.

“Wait,” she frowned at Lizzie, “what Mikaelson Ball?”

“The one that will happen in three days when Your Graces are back.” Lizzie tried but Hope only stared at her blankly. “I honestly have no idea how my mom didn’t bring up the subject to you as soon as she saw you. We got invitations today morning. Long due since the season started a few weeks ago and Your Graces haven’t hosted a ball yet. My mom is delighted. She already sent word to the modiste to make us new dresses. As if we needed new ones with our wardrobes filled for the whole season,” Lizzie rolled her eyes. Hope said nothing and Lizzie snorted, “You really didn’t know about it?” Hope shook her head.

“They must have sent me a letter but it got lost somewhere in my pile of unread ones.” Hope said embarrassed. “You’re right then. Today is the best day. After my parents are home, you won’t be able to get inside without them smelling trouble. We have to find the jewels today, Lizzie.” Hope said and Lizzie nodded.

“We will. Even if we have to spend the whole night looking for it.”

When they arrived back in Lizzie’s house, Penelope, Josie and the kids had already left and the butler had told Lizzie that her mother had retired early due to a headache. Perhaps it was the opportunity to be alone with Hope that made Lizzie turn to her just as she was leaving.

“I would like for you to come in. Have some tea with me in the visiting room,” Lizzie said, her heart in her hand, she knew it. Hope nodded and when Lizzie closed the door of the visiting room behind them, Lizzie watched as Hope swallowed and looked at Lizzie careful.

Lizzie had no idea why she felt like she was dying and suffocating and flying and falling at the same time. But she knew that Hope had given a piece of herself earlier and now it was Lizzie’s turn. Lizzie shuddered at the idea of being vulnerable in front of anyone but somehow it was important that Hope saw it. It was important to Lizzie that Hope new her entirely, not just what the outside world saw. Lizzie wanted to marry Hope more than anything. Denying that at this point was just stupid and Lizzie had never been stupid. She knew the reason why her heart made all kinds of stunts when Hope was near and she knew why her body felt alien with sensations she had never felt before.

She loved Hope. She loved the smirks and the way she rolled her eyes at Lizzie. She loved Hope’s aloofness to everything social and the way she didn’t care about people’s opinions. What she loved the most about Hope though, was that she seemed to like Lizzie without wanting anything different about her. So, if she had to make Hope realize it, she would. Lizzie was never one to cower.

She took a deep breath and spilled her heart out.

* * *

Hope watched as Lizzie took a deep breath and she knew that Lizzie was about to say something important.

“I know," Lizzie said, letting out a short breath, the sort one did when one couldn't quite believe what one was saying, "that it's often rather hard work to love me."

And suddenly Hope realized that some things did come in a flash. And there were some things one simply knew without being able to explain them. Because as Hope stood there watching Lizzie, all she could think was— No.

No.

It would be rather easy to love Lizzie Saltzman. Hope almost laughed.

Hope didn't know where the thought had come from, or what strange corner of her brain had come to that conclusion, because she was quite certain it would be nearly impossible to live with Lizzie, but somehow she knew that it wouldn't be at all difficult to love her. Hope had to lean against the wall when the afterthought came to her.

She loved Lizzie already.

"I talk too much," Lizzie said.

Hope had been lost in her own thoughts. What was she saying?

"And I'm very opinionated."

That was true, but what was—

"And I can be the absolute worst when I do not get my way, although I would like to think most of the time that I'm reasonably reasonable…"

Hope started to laugh then. Good God, Lizzie was cataloguing all the reasons why she was difficult to love. She was right, of course, about all of them, but none of it seemed to matter.

At least not right then. Not when Hope loved her despite of all of it. Not when Hope loved her _because_ of all of it.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Be quiet," Hope said, crossing the distance between them.

"Why?" Lizzie asked, her brows furrowed.

"Just be quiet."

"But— " There she was again, eager to argue. Hope laughed.

She placed a finger on Lizzie’s lips. "Grant me one favor," she said softly, "and don't say a word."

Amazingly, she complied.

For a moment Hope did nothing but look at her. It was so rare that she was still, that something on her face wasn't moving or speaking or expressing an opinion with nothing more than a scrunch of her nose. Hope just looked at her, memorizing the way her eyebrows arched into delicate wings and her eyes grew wide under the strain of keeping quiet. She savored the hot rush of her breath across Hope’s finger, and the funny little sound she made at the back of her throat without realizing it.

And then Hope couldn't help it. She kissed her. She took her face in her hands, and she lowered her mouth to Lizzie’s. Hope had told herself she wouldn’t do it without proposing to her first but there was no way she wouldn’t marry Lizzie. Lizzie was hers just as Hope was Lizzie’s. The kiss was merely a way for both of them to claim this ownership with something more important than words.

Hope’s lips were soft, gentle. She waited for her to sigh, for her body to soften against Hope’s body. Hope brushed her mouth against Lizzie’s, with just enough friction to feel the texture of her lips, to sense the heat of her body. As much as Hope wanted it to be slow, to last forever, everything within her said fast and hard. She felt like a million explosions inside her brain.

The first kiss had been unbelievable enough. This one was world changer. It was like a promise of everything that was in store for then. Like a peek into their life. Love, passion and craziness and need for each other.

Hope felt Lizzie’s hands tracing her arms and she noticed that at some point between arriving home and now, she had taken off her gloves and her fingers were now trailing a path up Hope’s arms, under Hope’s sleeves. Hope’s breath quivered when she felt Lizzie’s lips leaving her mouth and going to her neck.

Hope should be embarrassed. She had kissed people before. She should be the one to be leading it, making Lizzie fell like exploding. But she was the one that was barely holding herself together. Hope felt Lizzie’s smirk on her neck when she shifted them making Hope’s back hit the wall. Hope leaned on to prevent herself from falling to the floor.

Lizzie’s fingers found, somehow, the buttons of Hope’s shirt and started to unbutton it, her eyes on Hope’s in a silent question. Hope didn’t really know the question but she trusted Lizzie enough to let her. When Lizzie’s hands touched Hope’s stomach, skin to skin, Hope’s gasped and both her hands found Lizzie’s shoulder and held onto it for support. She felt Lizzie’s kisses starting to descend, her neck, the space between her breasts, her stomach. It was like her lips contained fire and it left a trail of destruction wherever it touched. Hope felt her kisses going low, lower than anyone had ever touched Hope.

Hope wanted to stop her. They shouldn’t be doing this. They weren’t married and even if they were, the visiting room of Lizzie’s mom was not the place. Hope opened her mouth to tell her to stop but before Hope could even say a word, a commotion outside the room, most likely in the entrance hall, startled them and Lizzie jumped away. Hope stilled for only a moment before she started to button her shirt again and Lizzie started to gather the hair pins Hope had taken off her hair. Just as they finished and sat on the couch, a good distance between them that would serve nothing if someone noticed that they were flushed and had been in a room with closed doors alone, the butler entered the room.

“Lord Stefan.” He announced and Lizzie’s stepdad entered the room.

“Lizzie.” He said and Lizzie stood up fast and ran to him.

“You’re home early.” Lizzie said from inside him embrace. Hope saw that he looked back at the door he had just entered and then at Hop.

“I see we have visit.” He said making Lizzie blush.

“Lady Mikaelson just brought me home from a walk in the town square,” Lizzie said. Stefan looked at Hope and then back at Lizzie.

“Where’s your chaperone?” He said, a protective dad aura to him. Hope opened her mouth to say something before he grabbed Hope by the collar and dragged her to her family demanding a marriage when Lizzie smirked.

“I gave her money to go to the private room and pretend to be sick for then next hour.” She said making Hope choke and Stefan to laugh out loud.

“Ah, Lizzie,” he said shaking his head fondly, “I hope you didn’t drive Caroline craze while I was gone,” then he looked at Hope, “and you’re the one that Lizzie payed her chaperone off to,” he was about to say something else but Caroline burst into the room much like a child running and hugged her husband.

“You’re back,” she said. Hope didn’t think she noticed her there or else she would act ladylike like she always told Lizzie to.

“Yes, honey, and just in time for the Mikaelson ball three days from now,” he said pointing his chin at Hope as if to let his wife know that Hope was still in the house. Hope smiled at her and she noticed Caroline’s cheeks turning pink at the thought that Hope had seen her acting in a non-proper way. Caroline frowned at Hope and then glanced at Lizzie. Hope cleared her throat. She didn’t want to be here to whatever Caroline was about to say.

“I hope to see you in the Mikaelson Ball in three days. It was a pleasure to see you. Lord Stefan, Lady Caroline, I’m sure you want to catch up after the trip,” then Hope turned to Lizzie and avoided her eyes, “miss Saltzman, it was a delight to spend the afternoon with you. See you soon.”

And she left the house, her ability to breathe only reestablished when she was inside her carriage and going to Mikaelson residence. She entered the house, wanting nothing more than to go to her bedchambers and spend the rest of the day preparing herself mentally for another couple of hours trying, and probably failing, to remain proper next to Lizzie. She was already on the stairs when she heard from behind her.

“Hope, I’m glad you’re here. Come to—” but her aunt Freya stopped when she noticed something in Hope’s clothes. “Niece, honestly, don’t you have a maid to get you ready to leave this house?” She asked making Hope frown. She pointed at something then and Hope looked at it, her heart dropping when she noticed her buttons buttoned all wrong. In the hurry to look proper, Hope must have— “oh,” her aunt said when she noticed something in her niece’s eyes. She gave Hope a once over and Hope knew she was flushed so she avoided her aunt’s eyes. “I suppose I can tell Keelin and Rebekah that you weren’t feeling quite so well and decided to retire to your bedchambers,” she said smirking and Hope gave her a hopeful look before turning around and ungracefully running and making her aunt laugh.

Lizzie would certainly kill Hope. Of that Hope had no doubt. It would be a sweet death, but a death nonetheless.

* * *

**_Inside the Mikaelson library later that day. After our dear Hope Mikaelson screamed into a pillow at least four times before leaving home to, once again, lead a proper young lady out of the comfort of her house in the middle of the night._ **

"Do you see anything?" Lizzie whispered.

"Only books." Hope said earning a frustrated glare from Lizzie that apparently decided not to chastise Hope for her lack of enthusiasm. Such an argument would only distract them from the task at hand.

"Do you see," she said, with exaggerated patience, "any sections which seem to be composed of scientific titles?" Hope glanced at the shelf in front of her, which contained three novels, two works of philosophy, a three-volume history of ancient Greece, and The Care and Feeding of Swine. Lizzie followed her gaze and again glared at Hope. "Or are they in any order at all?" she sighed.

"Not really," Hope shrugged. Then she smirked, “but look what I found, tucked away on the end of this shelf." She plucked a small book from the shelf and tossed it down to Lizzie. She caught it easily, then turned it in her hands until the title was right side up.

"No!" she said.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Hope said laughing. Right there, in gold lettering:

_Miss Davenport and the Dark Marquis._

"I don't believe it," she said.

"Perhaps you should take it home to my aunt. You two seem to enjoy this kind of foolish book." Hope said, a moment later being hit lightly by a book.

“It’s not foolish and it was written by the same author as Miss Butterworth. We didn't know about this one," Lizzie said. "We've read Miss Sainsbury and the Mysterious Colonel, of course."

"A military tale?" Hope asked but Lizzie only shrugged and resumed her inspection of the shelf in front of her after putting the small book in her pocket.

"Remind me," Hope said. "What, precisely, are we looking for?"

Lizzie pulled the oft-folded note from her pocket. "I just know that it’s something about illusion, light objects that disappear.”

Hope stared at her for a moment. "Which means…?"

"I have no idea," Lizzie said, shaking her head. "You're the that went to university."

Hope cleared her throat. "Yes, well, I wasn't much for the sciences."

Lizzie decided not to comment and turned back to the shelf ignoring Hope, which Hope knew was only a way to avoid what happened earlier to happen here too. Hope was doing her best and Lizzie was doing hers. It helped that they had a task in hand to keep their minds from wondering there. Not that it helped Hope’s mind from picturing all kinds of scandalous things she wanted to do with Lizzie in the library.

"I think," she Lizzie said, chewing on her lower lip for a moment and unaware of Hope’s trail of thoughts, as she glanced back at several of the shelves she'd already cataloged, "that perhaps these books had been in order at some point. There does seem to be some organization to it. If you look right here"— she motioned to one of the first shelves she'd inspected— "it's almost completely works of poetry. But then right in the middle one finds something by Plato, and over on the end, An Illustrated History of Denmark."

"Right," Hope said looking away.

"Right," Lizzie said frowning at Hope.

Hope made a face, "That might have been my fault."

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"It was one of my less mature moments," Hope admitted. "I was bored."

"You were…bored." Lizzie repeated blankly.

"I rearranged the shelves."

"You what?" Lizzie almost yelled and Hope looked around guiltily.

"It seemed impressively devious at the time and I wanted to play a prank on my family."

"A prank,” Lizzie said breathing in and out and then giving Hope a pointed look, “who could have guessed it would come back to haunt you?"

"Who indeed." Hope moved to another shelf, tilting her head as she read the titles on the spines. "The worst of it was that my family told me they wouldn’t have the poor servants organizing it and I had to do it on my own.”

“When was that?” Lizzie asked and Hope smirked lazily.

“Five year ago.”

"It would have driven me insane,” Lizzie admitted and Hope laughed.

"Yes, I suppose it would.”

"Can you remember anything about the organization of the titles?" she asked. "Anything at all? Were they grouped by author? By subject?"

Hope shook her head. "I have my own library in my wing of the house so I don’t really know this one very well," Hope stopped, exhaling as she planted her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. "I do recall that there was quite a bit on the topic of physics. And over there, there was…" Her words trailed off and Lizzie looked sharply at what she was staring at.

"What is it?" she asked urgently.

"A section in Italian," Hope said, turning and striding to the opposite side of the room.

Lizzie was right on her heels. "They must be your grandmother's books. Did she speak Italian like her mother?"

"I don’t actually know," Hope murmured. “She died when I was small.”

"Do you see them?"

Hope shook her head as she ran her finger along the spines of the books, searching for the ones with scientific topics. "Here they are."

Lizzie immediately pushed Hope aside and started to check the shelf Hope indicated.

The books were right on a level with Lizzie’s chest, so she had Hope hold their candle while she scanned the titles for something that sounded like what the writer had written in her note. Several did not have the entire title printed on the spine, and these she had to pull out to read the words on the front. Every time she did so, Hope could hear Lizzie’s sharply indrawn breath, followed by a disappointed exhale when she replaced the book on the shelf.

She reached the end of the lower shelf and then went to investigate the upper. Hope was right behind her, standing so close that she could feel the heat of Lizzie’s body rippling through the air.

"Do you see anything?" Hope asked. Lizzie didn’t answer right away. After looking through a few more books, she gasped. "What is it?"

With trembling hands, she pulled out a slim volume and turned it over until the front cover was visible to them both.

"It wasn’t physics,” Lizzie said shaking her head amused, “It was illusionism. Thing that disappear and the play with light. The title is exactly what she wrote in the clue," Lizzie whispered. Slowly, carefully, Lizzie opened the book to look for the telltale slip of paper. There was nothing tucked right inside, so she turned a page, then another, then another…

Until Hope yanked the book from her hands. "Do you want to be here until next week?" Hope whispered impatiently. With no delicacy whatsoever, she grasped both the front and back covers of the book and held it open, spine-side up so that the pages formed an upside-down fan.

"Hope, you— "

"Shush." Hope shook the book, bent down and peered up and inside, then shook it again, harder. And sure enough, a slip of paper came free and fell to the carpet.

"Give that to me," Lizzie demanded, after Hope had grabbed it. "You won't be able to read it in any case."

Hope handed the clue over, but she remained close, leaning over with the candle as Lizzie opened the single fold in the paper.

"What does it say?" Hope asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't— "

"I don't know," she snapped, "I need time. And stop breathing on my neck." She hissed at Hope making Hope snort and walk to one of the armchairs. The house was empty, no Uncle Elijah this time, and Hope’s parents would only arrive tomorrow so they had time. Hope sat down and urged Lizzie to do the same. Hope had brough with them some small cakes she had stolen from the kitchen earlier. For some reason, her heartrate raced when she unwrapped the sweets and cleared her throat.

“I thought that it may help if we’re not hungry,” she said at Lizzie’s raised eyebrow. Then she gave Hope that smile, the dazzling one that made Hope see stars.

“You thought right,” she said taking one of the cakes and putting it whole inside her mouth. Hope choked on her own cake and looked away. It was quite hot today. She felt restrained, caged. She stood up and went to the window to get some air and when she turned around, there Lizzie was, almost over Hope. “Are you thinking the same thing as me?”

“What?” Hope asked, she was sure they weren’t thinking about the same things.

“The Jewels have been here the whole time so it stands to reason that…” Lizzie kept talking but Hope could not pay attention to what she was saying for the life of her, “…and the drawings that she made…” Hope could feel Lizzie’s warm breath on her skin; that was how close Lizzie was. Did she need to be that close? Hope didn’t think so. “Are you paying attention to any if the things I’m saying?” Lizzie asked and Hope only stared. “I can’t believe I’m talking about the biggest mystery in the history of our country and you’re just staring at my lips thinking about kissing me.”

“I wasn’t thinking about kissing you,” Hope tried but it lacked conviction.

“Yes, you were and I can’t believe that—” And Hope kissed her because honestly, Lizzie talked too much and Hope was only human and their last encounter earlier in Lizzie’s visiting room hadn’t helped Hope’s conviction that she wouldn’t ruin Lizzie before marriage. If they were going to marry anyway, why care about scandal at all?

* * *

Lizzie couldn’t believe they were kissing again. She tried to will her body to stop reacting so improperly but her body wasn’t her own. Not when Hope was anywhere near her. Not when she kissed Lizzie and not when their skins touched. Who knew that the warm touch of a skin could cause so much harm? Perhaps that was why people dressed in so much attire to balls; gowns, gloves, hats and coats served as an armor against this kind of madness. Lizzie had never doubted that she was mad, but she never did like it as much as she did when she completely lost her mind when Hope kissed her.

Hope’s hands were clumsy and for some reason that made Lizzie love her even more. She touched Lizzie with care and Lizzie reciprocated with the same love. Lizzie had never felt something like this. It was emotional, like she needed Hope to see that she was willing to give her everything to her, but it was also physical, the need to give and to take and to share and never let go.

Lizzie felt Hope’s fingers brushing her hair and soon enough Lizzie’s braid was gone and her hair clips were all over the floor. Hope stopped kissing her, “I like your hair down,” she said making Lizzie blush. What was it that made Lizzie blush at such simple words when they had been kissing and everything proper had fled Lizzie’s mind? “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Hope kept talking and her lips were on Lizzie’s temples and then on her brows and her hair and her ear. They kissed Lizzie reverently and with eagerness and at the same time patience.

Lizzie wasn’t wearing a gown now and when she felt Hope’s leg brushing against her own, it was like Lizzie was discovering herself. Was it normal to feel like this? Hope shifted again and their bodies touched in ways that were entirely too maddening and Lizzie couldn’t handle how much her body was able feel. People weren’t supposed to feel this way; it was a sickness, something—

“Oh,” Lizzie gasped when Hope’s hand touched the bare skin of her back under her shirt. Lizzie leaned on the armchair, the desperate attempt at support going terribly wrong when she tripped and fell on the armchair bring Hope down with her. Hope, unfortunately, didn’t have her luck, and she fell on her knees in front of Lizzie, her head hitting Lizzie’s lap.

It all happened too fast then. One minute, Lizzie was opening her mouth to laugh about their clumsiness and the other, the door to the library was being burst open and at least seven people were entering the room, two of them gasping at Hope and Lizzie’s position.

_Oh no. Please no._

“Lizzie!” Her mother gasped. Lizzie watched as Hope stood up in an unnatural velocity and then stilled. Lizzie knew what she was thinking.

_Caught. They had been caught._

After giving them some time to compose themselves, the Mikaelsons and Lizzie’s family called them into the visiting room of Mikaelson Residence. It was only then that Lizzie noticed how terrible her fate had been. Her mother, her sister, her sister-in-law and her stepdad. Hope’s mom, dad, Uncle Elijah and Aunt Rebekah.

Lizzie’s mom was silent. Which mean more trouble than if she were talking Lizzie’s ears off. Josie’s look was one of solidarity and even Penelope was looking somewhat empathetic towards her.

“I thought that you had been kidnapped.” Came Caroline’s voice after an embarrassingly long silence, “I went to your bedchamber to check on you since you told me that would didn’t want to attend the Chang Ball tonight because you were feeling like you were about to catch a cold. You said as much yesterday so I was worried. Imagine my surprise, followed by dread, when I couldn’t find you in your room or anywhere around the house.” Lizzie grimaced. “I sent for your sister and she and Pen arrived quickly. They went to your room and found this journal,” Caroline held up the Italian diary and Lizzie grunted. She knew her sister spoke as much of Italian as she did, “this is the most scandalous think that I have ever read. How come you had possession of such thing, I asked, and then Penelope tried to help you but I forced it out of her. She told me she had heard the two of you talking about something Italian-related. I sent for Lady Rebekah then,” Caroline pointed at Lady Rebekah, peacefully taking her tea as if Hope and Lizzie hadn’t been found in the most compromising of the positions.

“I told her that Hope gave Lizzie the diary and that they were working some mystery behind it and that we should come to Mikaelson Residence to look for you.” Rebekah said earning a betrayed look from Hope that Rebekah dismissed entirely.

“Have you no brain, Lizzie?” Her mother asked then. “Leaving home in the middle of the night to do God-knows-what,” she gave Lizzie a pointed look then and Lizzie noticed that a strand of her hair had fallen over her face. She quickly brushed it aside, “imagine, just for one second, about the scandal that would have taken place had someone seen you two running the streets dressed like two thieves.”

“Mother, I—”

“Don’t you think that it still can’t happen. You two could have been seen. We will know tomorrow when the gossip starts. There’s no way anyone haven’t seen Jo and Pen coming to our house in the middle of the night and then us leaving to go to Lady Rebekah’s house. And then here. Just to leave with an extra person,” Caroline’s next words were soft, but not at all more comforting, “a scandal, Lizzie.”

“Hope will marry her, of course,” Hope’s dad’s voice announced making Lizzie’s blood freeze.

“What?” Came Lizzie’s question. This couldn’t be happening. She noticed Lady Hayley giving Lord Klaus a look that Lizzie didn’t understand but she had an idea when she looked over at Hope. Hope was miserable. She was blushed and embarrassed and she looked at her dad as if he had just told her that she would have to marry a porcupine.

“I will, of course,” Hope said looking at Lizzie with an apologetical look. Lizzie felt like all the air in the world wasn’t enough to prevent her from suffocating. She started to see black spots, the same ones that looked so much like shiny stars when Hope was kissing her, now looked like all the black, void spaces between those same stars.

“There’s no need for it,” Lizzie said and it was Hope’s time to look shocked.

“I beg your pardon?” She asked but Lizzie didn’t dare look at her.

“I don’t accept the wedding proposal, not that there was any,” Lizzie gave Lord Klaus a look that made someone behind Lizzie, probably Rebekah or Elijah, to giggle, “it’s my choice. And if there’s a scandal, I’ll deal with it,” then Lizzie looked at her mom, “we can go now.” And her mother, blessed be her, didn’t argue. She only nodded, wishing the others a good evening and they left the house.

Lizzie was glad they did it quickly because as soon as they entered the carriage, she started crying on her mother’s lap.

They had just ruined everything. Lizzie had just said no to the love of her life.

_What had she done?_

* * *

Hope still couldn’t believe it. She knew this would happen. She knew it and still, she hadn’t been careful enough. “Are you okay, honey?” She heard her mother asking but she didn’t bother answering. They knew she wasn’t. “I’m sorry your father is such a blank-headed nuisance. He shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why, I beg to know, shouldn’t I have said that? Miss Saltzman’s mother is a good friend of mine and she needed the guarantee that Hope would do the honorable thing and marry her daughter after ruining her.” Hope’s dad said making Hope flinch. Honorable thing. The last reason Hope had to marry Lizzie was honor. She loved Lizzie.

“You spooked her, you dumb man. Now she thinks that the only reason Hope wants to marry her is because she’s being forced into it,” Hayley said exasperated and Klaus snorted.

“Please, everyone can see how in love Hope is with the girl.”

“Lizzie’s too stubborn to see past anything right now but she'll come around,” Rebekah said shrugging. “She’s fit to be a Mikaelson, that one.”

“What are you going to do, Hope?” Her mom asked then and Hope opened her mouth and to her eternal astonishment, she started crying.

“I don’t know, mom, but I have to do something. I—,” love her. But Hope didn’t say. When she finally did, Lizzie would be the first one to hear. Her family say it in her eyes though. Hope cleared her throat and looked at Aunt Rebekah with renewed conviction. “I need you to get Lizzie to come to the Mikaelson Ball. Talk to her mom, threaten her, be the matchmaker that you are.”

“What are you planning to do?” Her dad asked, his smirk curious and proud.

“I’m going to propose, of course.”

* * *

Ruined.

Lizzie had never understood why they used such an ugly term to condemn people. She used to think that it was, perhaps, because society wanted to be judge and executioner of one’s reputation. They decided upon one’s fate. It didn’t matter what was the truth. What mattered was appearance and a well-placed comment that would spread to every single noble house by the end of a day.

Ruined.

Now she knew better. It had nothing to do with reputation and everything to do with the fact that Hope had really ruined Lizzie. To everyone else.

Lizzie was about to start her thirty-seventh reminiscence of her moments with Hope when the door was pulled open with force. A few second later someone opened the window.

“It smells like death in here, Lizzie,” She heard her mother saying. Then the cover were pulled from over Lizzie’s body.

“Let me sleep, mother.” Lizzie tried but Caroline gave her a look.

“I allowed you to sleep for the past three days. Today is the Mikaelson ball and you’re coming.” Caroline said making Lizzie laugh for the first time in the last days.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You are lucky that no one heard about your little escapades in the middle of night, Lizzie. But they ought to talk if you suddenly don’t appear at a Mikaelson Ball when everyone think Hope’s courting you.”

“I can’t go, mom.” Lizzie said closing her eyes and shaking her head. Her mother was right to think about Lizzie’s reputation, of course, but Lizzie could not care for it with the same worry. The only good thing that a good reputation provided was the chance of a good match and no gossips. Lizzie was already used to gossips and after Hope… there wasn’t another match for Lizzie.

“Look at me, Lizzie.” Her mom said and Lizzie looked at her trying her hardest not to cry. Caroline saw all that though so she held Lizzie’s chin and kissed her forehead. “I know you, honey. Do you really think Hope doesn’t like you enough to marry you without being forced into it?” She asked and Lizzie swallowed. Caroline had asked the same thing in the carriage that night.

“I don’t know.” Lizzie said and her mother shook her head.

“In any case, it’s not like you to play the coward lady.” Caroline said changing her approach and making Lizzie frown at her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You, here, sulking and waiting for what? For Hope to burst from those doors with a serenade and a confession of love? That’s not you, honey.” Caroline said smiling. “I was once in this same position but instead of you, it was Josie, and while I told her to be brave enough to knock some sense into Penelope in order to get her happiness… to you, I just need to tell you to be you. That was always the difference between the two of you. I had to push Josie forward and pull you back,” she kissed Lizzie’s cheek, “but now I want you to be as much you as possible. The amazing, bold, infuriating and beautiful girl that you are.” Lizzie looked at her then, a question in her eyes and her mother nodded. “The girl that Hope fell in love with. You know she did.” Caroline winked at her then and Lizzie laughed between her tears. “You know she loves you, don’t you?” she asked and Lizzie bit her lip.

“I think she does,” she said and her mother nodded.

“Then get out of this bed and take a shower because you’re honestly stinking,”

“It’s not polite to comment upon one’s physical aspects,” Lizzie protested and her mother rolled her eyes.

“It’s not polite to stink like that either,” then she helped Lizzie up, “your new dress just arrived and I have a feeling that you will like this one better than every other one you have ever worn.”

Lizzie took a deep breath before letting one of the servants take her coat as she entered the hall of Mikaelson Residence and stood at the top of the stairs. She enjoyed with wicked pleasure as the crowd, with a collective gasp, beheld her. Lizzie made sure to stand on the top of those stairs long enough for every set of eyes to be on her, on her dress, on her determined expression.

She stood there long enough for _her to see._ Lizzie smirked when Hope lost her balance and someone put their hand on her shoulder to steady her.

The ball had already started and the first dancers were just taking place at the center of the room. Lizzie made everyone stop. First with her late arrival and last with her dress. Lizzie didn’t stop until she reached her objective: Hope Mikaelson. Hope was too stunned to do more than just stare and Lizzie almost laughed. How could she think Hope didn’t want her? Everything in Hope claimed Lizzie with her eyes and lips and hands. Lizzie wished Hope could physically mark her hers, as irrational as that thought was.

“Would you dance with me, Lady Mikaelson?” Lizzie said earing round of gasps. She smirked when Hope nodded and placed her hand on Lizzie’s arm, clumsy and still quite stunned.

“You look amazing,” Hope said when they took place at the center of the dancers; it was funny how they seemed to open space for Hope and Lizzie.

“Apparently, mom and Lady Rebekah have been plotting behind my back and this dress is the result of it,” Lizzie said glancing at the dark blue silk filled with small sapphires and that hugged Lizzie’s body tightly till the waist where it opened in a translucid blue and silver silk that was arranged in the most scandalous manner making Lizzie’s legs almost visible. Almost. But it was enough.

“Lizzie, I—” Hope started but Lizzie stopped her with a finger to her lips.

“No, let me talk please.” And when Hope nodded, the first strings of a waltz started to play. _Of course, it would be a waltz._ Lizzie smiled. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry that we got caught and I’m sorry that I ran away without even giving you time to process anything but…” Lizzie laughed then and shook her head, “my mom just made me realize something. I’m bold and infuriating and stubborn and,” Lizzie took a deep breath then and jumped, “that’s why you love me. So I won’t apologize. I wouldn’t change anything that happened.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Hope whispered and Lizzie knew she meant it. “Nothing.”

“And mom also made me realize that being hope pacing back and forth and wishing you were at my door with flowers is not me. That’s why, Hope Mikaelson, I’m here to do something crazy. Something totally me.” Lizzie said then laughing at Hope’s gasp when she knelt in front of her.

* * *

Hope couldn’t believe it. She could, because this was the type of thing Lizzie would surely do, but Hope couldn’t process what was happening until Lizzie pulled out a little ring. No, ring wasn’t the right name to it. It was—

“Between sulking and deciding to come, I haven’t had the time to get a real ring so I hope you will accept a paper ring.” Lizzie said. Hope was speechless. This woman was the most astonishing person Hope had ever met.

“I can’t believe you’re proposing to me,” Hope said shaking her head.

“Me neither with this attitude of yours,” Lizzie frowned and Hope laughed then, because, honestly, what else could she do? “Do you accept to marry me or not?” Lizzie rolled her eyes.

_So her._

Hope loved her so much. Had she ever think she wasn’t in love with this woman? If she did, Hope was really stupid. Looking at Lizzie right now, it was clear that she fell for her in that very first night they sat together at a terrible musicale. Hope couldn’t believe that it had been only a couple of weeks ago.

“Wait a second.” Hope said and then looked around until she found her. She waved for Penelope to come and a few seconds later, she was there giving Hope a small box. Hope was aware of all the sets of eyes staring at them and all the whispers saying their names but Hope loved it. That they were all talking. That they would talk forever. “You didn’t open it, did you?” Hope asked laughing lightly at Lizzie’s bored expression.

“No, Hope, but I’m in the middle of proposing marriage to you so I would appreciate if you could spare me undivided attention,” she said and Hope laughed again. She was sure that everyone suspected that she was either under the influence of alcohol or crazy because she was laughing too much. But it was impossible not to.

“Open it.” Hope gave her the small box that she had asked Josie to retrieve from Lizzie’s room and bring to the Mikaelson Ball.

“Seriously, Hope, I—”

“Please,” Hope asked and Lizzie sighed. Lizzie picked up the box, analyzing it and starting to put symbols in place as if she had worked on it long enough to have guessed some but not all. When she seemed stuck on the last one, hope pointed at a heart-shaped engraving. As soon as Lizzie aligned the right symbols, the box made a clicking noise.

“Satisfied?” Lizzie was saying. “I have no idea why you—oh,” Lizzie said when she noticed what was inside the box. A ring. When she looked back at Hope, she was kneeling in front of her.

“I know you’re proposing but,” Hope laughed, “I wanted you to know something, Lizzie. I know you know that I love you.” And if there was any doubt about it in Lizzie’s eyes, it disappeared giving place to that glint of amazement and promises that Hope loved so much. “I just wanted you to know, Lizzie, that the scandal didn’t matter for me. I want to marry you because of you. Because you’re annoying and stubborn and never shut up about something and because you makes me crazy but the thought of not having you makes me even crazier. I want you because although you were born a Saltzman, you were clearly always meant to be a Mikaelson. I want to marry you, Lizzie, because I love you and you love me.” Then Hope closed the space between them and whispered in Lizzie’s ears. “I also want to marry you because I want to see where all of our _encounters_ would lead if we didn’t got interrupted again.”

“I have a pretty good idea to where it would lead us,” Lizzie replied, breathy and amused. “I do want to marry you.” Then she took Hope’s hand and out the small paper ring on Hope’s finger. Hope then mimicked her actions and put the ring in Lizzie’s finger. Hope had planned this for tonight. She had planned to have Lizzie opening the box and realizing that Hope had wanted to marry her before them getting caught; that she had put a ring inside a magic box because she knew Lizzie would love it. But it had been better. Hope smiled at Lizzie. It was been fantastic. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to kiss you now,” Lizzie said.

“No, I’m sure I’m going to kiss you now.” Hope said taking Lizzie’s head in her hands and kissing her as the whole crowed erupted in cheers at the sight of them kneeled in the center of a ballroom, kissing and causing gossip enough for the next fifty years.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

"Haven't you already searched this room?" Lizzie looked up from her position on the floor of the duchess’s washroom. Hope was standing in the doorway, gazing down at her with an indulgent expression.

"Not for at least a month," Lizzie replied, testing the baseboards for loose sections— as if she hadn't yanked and prodded them countless times before.

"Darling," Hope said, and Lizzie knew from her tone what she was thinking.

She gave him a pointed look. "Don't."

"Darling," she tried again.

"No." She turned back to the baseboards. "I don't want to hear it. If it takes until the day I die, I will find these bloody jewels."

"Lizzie."

She ignored Hope, pressing along the seam where the baseboard met the floor.

Hope watched her for several seconds before remarking,

"I'm quite certain you've done that before." She spared Hope only the briefest of glances before rising to inspect the window frame.

"Lizzie," she said. Lizzie turned so suddenly that she almost lost her balance.

"The note said 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness, and the Kingdom of Heaven is rich indeed.'" Lizzie recited the last note they had found, just over eight months ago inside a tile in one of the guest’s bedrooms. It had been like this ever since they started this damned search. The clues seemed to never end, they had found eleven, and they were each time harder to decipher. Lizzie had needed five years to solve clue number six. Lizzie had almost given up on the search several times.

"Lizzie," Hope said, as if she hadn't already uttered her name twice…and countless times before that, always in the same slightly resigned tone.

"It has to be here," she said. "It has to."

Hope shrugged. "Very well," she knew best than to try to persuade Lizzie of something, "but has come the time."

Lizzie paused, sighed, then lifted her fingers from the windowsill. “She won’t like it.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that,”

“She’ll resist,” Lizzie added and Hope smirked.

“Didn’t we resist too?” Hope hugged her and kissed her nose. “We’re just thinking about her well-being. We want her to be happy.” Lizzie smirked then.

“Are you sure you just don’t want to do like your parents?” As soon as Lizzie and Hope got married, Hayley and Klaus announced that they were moving to the countryside and leaving Mikaelson Residence for Hope and Lizzie to take care. They had been planning it all along, Hope had accused and they hadn’t even had the grace to deny. They said that it was about time Hope had to be involved with her title and the social events. When Hope complained, Hayley smirked and told them to birth child and marry them. Lizzie laughed at the memory.

“God, we turned into our parents.” Lizzie said and Hope grimaced.

“Don’t let my them hear you saying that.” Hope winked and then took Lizzie’s hand and dragged her to the office Hope had, so many years ago, received her ‘ultimatum’ to get married. Lizzie could feel her delight when she uttered the same words her mother had told her.

“You need to get married.” Hope said making their eldest daughter, Andrea, choke on her tea.

“I beg your pardon?” She said looking between her moms with a confused look.

“To get married, Andrea. You’re twenty-two. You’re not getting any younger.” Hope said biting her lip nit to laugh and Lizzie pinched her on the tight. She was enjoying herself too much. Poor Andrea looked like she was about to get sick.

“Why me? Why aren’t you bothering Carol about it? She’s the youngest and she also twenty-two. Her situation seems dire.” She said making Lizzie almost grunt. Carol, named Caroline after Lizzie’s mom, was a threat to civilized society as they knew it. She had been already in the brink of so many scandals that Lizzie had to close her eyes to half of it if she wanted to prevent a heart attack.

Lizzie’s mom, Penelope and Josie spoiled the brat rotten and didn’t help it at all. They thrived in Lizzie’s agony every time Carol decided to open her mouth and say something. Lizzie loved her daughter but honestly, she could have been a little less like… Lizzie.

That the girl was prettier than Lizzie had ever been was another threat. She had curly auburn hair and green eyes and the hint of the devil in them. She had a feral look and a wild nature.

Andrea… she was beautiful in a classic ethereal way. Blond straight hair that reached her waist and grey eyes that always seemed to be analyzing things. She was the embodiment of mysterious heir with captivating eyes that everyone seemed to comment upon at ballrooms. She was like Hope in that matter.

“I’m not getting married,” she said and Lizzie almost laughed when Aunt Rebekah cleared her throat from the door. Lizzie shook her head slightly to Hope. The devil had a wicked sense of humor.

“I see that you brought in the cavalry.” Andrea said and it was too much and Hope laughed making Lizzie laugh and Andrea to look at them as if they were crazy.

“My mom was right. This is too funny.” Hope said and Lizzie rolled her eyes at her wife. And then at their daughter. And then a thump sound came from upstairs, Carol surely. Lizzie laughed happily at how lucky she was to have these people to call hers.

After talking Andrea into attending the next Ball at Greasley House next week and leaving it for Rebekah to work her matchmaker’s gifts on Andrea, Lizzie resumed her search.

She wasn’t obsessed. She had noticed soon after they got married that it would take a while to finally find it. She didn’t care because she had the rest of her life with Hope.

But there were days, much like this one, when Lizzie had a feeling that it would be today. Maybe that was why she decided to go up to a small washroom that was tucked high in the eaves of the old mansion. Someone in years gone past had obviously taken a liking to the little room, and it had been decorated rather festively in what she could only assume was some sort of Eastern fashion. There were lovely blues and shimmering aquas and yellows that were streaks of pure sunshine.

Lizzie stood there and observed. She knew Hope was leaning on the door and watching her like she usually did. Something caught her eye today, though.

A crack. Between two of the tiles.

"That wasn't there before," Lizzie murmured.

She crouched, then finally lowered herself to her bottom so that she could inspect the crack, which ran from the floor to the top of the first tile, about six inches up. It wasn't the sort of thing most people would notice, but Carol was not most people. She noticed everything.

And this was something new.

Frustrated with her inability to get really close, she shifted to her forearms and knees, then laid her cheek against the floor. Hope was hoovering her, a hopeful expression on her eyes.

“Do you think—"

"Hmmm." She poked the tile to the right of the crack, then the left. "Hmmm."

Why would a crack suddenly open up in her bathroom wall? Surely Mikaelson, which was well over a hundred years old, was done with its shifting and settling. Had she kicked the wall without thinking? Dropped something? Had Carol done it in one of her wild pranks?

She poked again. And again.

“Try hard,” Hope said and Lizzie nodded.

She stuck her fingernail at the edge of the crack and dug it in. A tiny piece of plaster lodged under her nail. Perhaps she could extend the crack…

She glanced over at her vanity table until her eyes fell upon a silver comb. That might work. She grabbed it and carefully positioned the last tooth near the edge of the crack. And then, with precise movements, she drew it back and tapped it against the plaster that ran between the tiles.

The crack snaked upward! Right before her eyes!

She did it again, this time positioning her comb over the left tile. Nothing. She tried it over the right.

And then harder.

Lizzie gasped as the crack literally shot through the plaster, until it ran all the way along the top of the tile. And then she did it a few more times until it ran down the other side.

With bated breath, she dug her nails in on either side of the tile and pulled. She shifted it back and forth, shimmying and jimmying, prying with all her might.

And then, with a creak and a groan the tile gave way.

Lizzie set it down carefully, then peered at what was left.

Where there should have been nothing but wall, there was a little compartment, just a few inches square. Lizzie reached in, pinching her fingers together to make her hand long and skinny.

She felt something soft. Like velvet.

She pulled it out. It was a little bag, held together with a soft, silky cord. Lizzie’s heart was in her throat.

Lizzie straightened quickly, crossing her legs so that she was sitting Indian style. She slid one finger inside the bag, widening the mouth, which had been pulled tight.

And then, with her right hand trebling, she upended it, sliding the contents into her left.

"Oh my G—"

“Is it—” Hope gasped and Lizzie nodded.

Lizzie quickly swallowed her shriek. A veritable pool of diamonds had showered into her hand.

It was a necklace. And a bracelet. And while she did not think of herself as the sort of woman who lost her mind over baubles and clothes, OH MY GOD these were the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Especially after years and more years of looking for it.

“I can’t believe we found it,” Hope said picking up a diamond and holding it to the light as if she couldn’t quite believe it. “What is it” Hope asked pointing to a small piece of paper inside the compartment they had just found the Jewels.

“I don’t know this language.” Lizzie frowned and Hope took the note from her hand and read it, not recognizing it either. What she did recognize was the glint in Lizzie’s eyes.

“Oh no,” Hope grunted making Lizzie laugh.

“You know what this means, right? We have another mystery to solve.” And as much annoyed and exasperated Hope was with Lizzie, she couldn’t help but laugh. Ever all these years after they had married, she still could be the same Lizzie Hope met more then two decades ago. Hope kissed her.

“I agree with you but before jumping into another hunt, I think we should celebrate this victory,” And Hope kissed her.

And it still drove her mad and Hope still enjoyed every bit of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT DID YOU THINK?

**Author's Note:**

> If your persisted till the end, would you mind terribly commenting and leaving a kudo?


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